Trains and Sewing Machines
by seahorses
Summary: Sequel to Charmed. Brittany and Santana have newborn infants, Rachel is new to LA and Quinn's husband is always on the road. Quinn turns to Rachel for support now that her two oldest friends have their hands full. Brittana and  Faberry.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello again! This is a sequel to my other story, _Charmed_. I've never written any Faberry before, but I couldn't get this story out of my head, so I had to write it. I'll probably alternate posting each chapter under different names depending on which characters are the most prominent.

* * *

"I think it's time we get going," Quinn said to Brittany. Quinn was holding her youngest daughter, Harper, who was passed out cold with her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"Of course," Brittany said. "I understand." Brittany laughed. "Like now, I actually do understand. I think San is in the nursery putting Nico and Olivia down for their naps. Do you need help getting everyone out to the car?"

"No, I've got it, Rach drove with us over here so she's gonna help me. Thanks so much for brunch, B." Quinn leaned in and gave Brittany a kiss on the cheek.

"Of course. You and the girls are coming over Friday night for dinner and games, right?"

"Seven, right?" Brittany nodded. We'll definitely be there."

"Of course. I know we've been so busy lately, but you know that we're always here, Q." Quinn nodded. "I'm going to go say goodbye to the girls, go find San." Brittany said, placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder and heading over to Rachel who was playing with Quinn's older daughters.

Quinn paused for a moment at the door of the nursery, wondering if she was ever going to get tired of watching this newfound parent version of Santana. She sat in the bay window cradling her daughter. Quinn strained to hear what she was saying but finally put two and two together as Santana played with her daughter's toes.

"This little piggy went to market, this little piggy went home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, and this little piggy went wee, wee, wee! All the way home." The baby was giggling with her big blue eyes staring wide at her mother. "You know, you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my whole life," Santana said, wiggling the baby's feet and cradling her back and forth. "I used to think your mommy was the most beautiful girl in the world, but I can tell already that you're going to give her a run for her money."

Quinn lightly rapped on the doorframe. "Sorry to interrupt this unbelievably adorable mother-daughter moment, but I just wanted to let you know that we have to head home. This one is passed out, and Lily is grumpy because she needs a nap."

"Of course, Q. Are you going with Berry?"

"Yeah, she drove with us here."

"When does Justin get back?"

"Maybe three weeks? It's hard to say at this point in the season."

"You doing okay, Q?"

"Yeah…it gets lonely, but I should be used to it by now."

"Well, you know Britt and I are always here, Q," Santana said. _God, _Quinn thought to herself, _it's like they share the same brain._ Santana's next sentence was cut off by her daughter grasping at her necklace.

"Mama, mama," Olivia babbled.

"Oh my gosh!" Quinn said. Santana buried her head into her daughter's head.

"It's all she says," Santana said, smiling. "Mama and sometimes mom, all day long. She really looks like Brittany, doesn't she?"  
"She does. She's beautiful, San."

"I know. Ok, so you get your girls home, and we'll see you Friday?"

"Absolutely." Quinn leaned over and gave Santana a kiss on the cheek. Good luck getting that one to sleep, San."

"Thanks Q. You know I'm going to need it."

* * *

Quinn was driving her Range Rover with Rachel next to her and her three daughters asleep in the backseat.

"How long has Justin been gone this time?" Rachel asked.

"Six weeks, so far. It's definitely not the longest he's been gone, but it's the longest since he said he'd stay around more for the girls."

"I'm sorry, Quinn," the two women sat in silence. Rachel finally broke it. "So…how absurd are Brittany and Santana. I think we need a moment to talk about that."

"Don't even get me started, Rach. I swear to god, if you told me in High School that one day I'd be watching Santana coo to a blond infant that she was even prettier that her mother, I would have assumed that you'd been dropped on your head even more times than I already had assumed you had."

"Thanks, Quinn."

"Oh, you know I'm just kidding," Quinn said as they pulled into her driveway. Hannah woke up as Quinn opened the door to the backseat, beginning her daily fight with the complicated buckles on carseats.

"Aunt Rach?" Hannah said, "can I go upstairs and watch Little Nemo? I'm kind of tired."

"If it's ok with your mom, it's ok with me." Hannah looked pleadingly at her mother.

"Of course, little girl. Rachel, can you grab Lily? She's passed out cold too." Rachel climbed in the car and carefully scooped the sleeping child out of the car. Once they got the sleepers upstairs and Hannah began her movie, Rachel and Quinn walked into the kitchen.

"Do you want a glass of wine, Rach?" Quinn asked, opening up the cabinet with the glasses. Rachel looked down at her watch. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry," Quinn said, suddenly feeling embarrassed and a little pathetic. "I forget that people have actual things to do in the evenings other than cook dinner and wrestle to get three kids to bed and settle into reality TV…"

"Stop, Quinn, you're rambling. You sound a little like me in High School. I have to be on set at 7am tomorrow, so I'm most certainly not doing anything tonight other than going home, ordering Thai, and going to bed. So I'd love to stay and have a home cooked dinner. And I would love a glass of wine."

"Red or white?"

"Hmm…red please."

"Are you still a vegan?" Quinn asked as she poured two glasses of wine.

"I am."

"I think I can work with that," Quinn smiled. "Remind me to wake the girls in half-an-hour. If they sleep all afternoon I'll never get them to sleep tonight."

"Of course."

"So, tell me everything about Spring Awakening? How's the life of a big movie star?"

"I don't even know where to begin!" Quinn smiled as Rachel began to tell what was sure to be a long-winded tale about her new job, and Quinn looked in the fridge, mentally putting together a vegan dinner with the food she had in stock. Quinn wasn't really listening to what Rachel was saying, but it was somehow soothing to both hear a familiar voice and have another adult in the house for once.

* * *

It was midnight, and over at the Pierce-Lopez's they had finally gotten both of their children to be asleep at the same time.

"Why'd you have to go and have twins, Brit?" Santana asked, yawning and curling into Brittany while they sat on the couch.

"All good things come in pairs San…like wings, and pants, peanut butter cups—" Santana leaned her head up and gave Brittany a kiss on the lips.

"Rhetorical question, B."

"I'm no longer respecting those."

"How can you no longer respect a figure of speech?"

"If you don't want an answer to a question, then why ask it?" Santana couldn't think of an answer that would satisfy Brittany so instead she just put her head back on her wife's shoulder and enjoyed the rare silence.

"It's nice that Rachel is spending some time with Quinn, don't you think, San?" Santana just grunted. "I think Quinn is super lonely lately. The only people she really hung out with were us and Justin, and we're so busy with the babies now…" Santana grunted again. Brittany took out her phone and quickly sent out a text message. She kissed her sleeping wife's forehead. "I think it's time I get you to bed…" she rested her head on top of Santana's. "Maybe I'll just shut my eyes for a second," she mumbled to herself and drifted off into sleep.

Rachel was awoken by her cell phone vibrating in her pocket.

_Brittany Pierce-Lopez: _

_San and I are having Quinn and the girls over for a dinner_

_and games night on Friday, and we'd love if you could _

_make it. 7pm. _

_Sent: Monday, March 17, 12:03am_

Rachel smiled; she'd been living in LA for two months now, and it was nice to have her old friends including her in their established lives in the city. She was about to type out a message to Brittany when something else in the text caught her eye. _12:03am_…there was no way it could be 12:03 am. She had to be at work in 7 hours! She let her sleepy eyes take in the sight around her. The DVD menu for Toy Story was up on the TV. Harper, Lily, and Hannah were in their onesie pajamas, fast asleep all curled together on the ground. Quinn was next to her on the couch, her head on the armrest, snoring a little bit.

"Quinn," Rachel whispered, nudging her, "Quinn," she tried again, this time shaking her arm. Quinn slowly opened her heavy eyelids and smiled a little at Rachel.

"Hey Rach. What time is it?"

"Just after midnight. We must have all fallen asleep. I have to be on set at seven tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, Rach," Quinn said, sitting up and stretching her arms. "Let me walk you out."

"No, please, you have to get these two upstairs, I'm sorry I just sorry I have to dash and can't help you, but I really can't be late tomorrow."

"Of course," Quinn reached out and gently touched Rachel's forearm. "Don't apologize, thanks so much for staying for dinner and the movie."

"Of course," Rachel said, beaming, as she stood to gather her things. "I had a great time. I'll see you Friday at Santana and Brittany's." Before Quinn could say anything else, Rachel was out the door.

It only took her 15 minutes to get the girls in their beds. Quinn would never understand why children could be carried everywhere and never wake up. She tucked them in and brushed her teeth and hair and put on shorts and a tank top and crawled into her side of the bed. It was cold so she curled herself into a ball and felt a little like a bug in the middle of her empty California King. She missed her husband. It was nice though, she thought, as she pulled the blankets tighter around her body, to have a new friend. Well, an old friend, but a new one into this life. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of times when things were a little less lonely, and hoping, a little bit, that this restored friendship with Rachel might help.


	2. Chapter 2

**Anuthor's Note:** Thank you for the reviews and the story alerts, and everything else. As always, I really appreciate them. I think I mentioned this last time, but I'm going to alternate posting this story between all four characters. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Rachel felt awkward. She had been sitting in her car across the street from Brittany and Santana's house for 10 minutes. It was 6:58, and they had told her that dinner was at seven, so she didn't want to be early and look like she really had no life. Although, she really didn't have a life outside of her work. Not that she was complaining…she loved her job, but the reality of the situation is that it left little time for a life outside. She hadn't been formally invited to anything outside of Brittany and Santana's brunch in months. She wasn't even sure what was appropriate to bring to an event like this. She bought a bottle of wine, it had pretty much been the go-to dinner party gift for the last eight years of her adult life. Then again, she hadn't had any friends with children in the last eight years. Brittany was breastfeeding, Santana wasn't drinking in some sort of solidarity kick, and 5 of the other guests at the "dinner party" were underage. Like, at least 15 years underage. So she just sat in the car, wondering what to do. She shut her eyes, but was snapped out of her panic by a light tap on the window. She opened them to find two little girls making faces at her. She couldn't help but laugh. She opened the door to the car.

"What are you guys doing?"

"What are we doing?" Lily said, incredulously. "What are you doing? Creeeeper."Quinn tousled her middle child's hair.

"I let Santana spend way too much time with this one."

"No, she's right," Rachel said, picking up her purse and the bottle of wine as she opened the door. "I _am_ being a creeper. I was just worried about bringing a bottle of wine to a house with two babies and a mother who is breastfeeding…" Quinn chuckled a bit to herself.

"Don't worry about it. It's the thought that counts, right? Plus, I'll definitely be drinking some wine tonight."

"Mommy loves wine," Lily interjected.

"Thank you, Lily." Quinn said, turning a little red. "Let's just go inside."

Hannah grabbed Rachel's hand and the two of them skipped all the way to Brittany and Santana's front door. Hannah reached up on her tiptoes and rang the doorbell. In a couple of moments, Brittany answered the door just as Quinn, Lily, and Harper reached them.

"Aunt B!" Hannah yelled, pulling Brittany wrapping her arms tightly around Brittany. As if on cue, Lily and Harper pulled away from their mother and jumped into Brittany's arms as well.

"Woah, so much Fabray-Scott love!" She said as she tousled each girls' hair. "Why don't you go inside and find Aunt S." The three girls ran past Brittany into the house. "Thanks so much for coming, guys," Brittany said, ushering Rachel and Quinn into the house.

"I brought this for you," Rachel said, handing Brittany the bottle of wine, "but I forgot that you guys weren't drinking, and I feel really bad, so maybe you should save it as celebration for the first time you drink again?" Brittany laughed.

"No worries, Rachel. I'm sure Quinn will drink it…we all know she loves her wine." She winked in Quinn's direction. "Anyway, San has been super busy at work, I've actually been _trying _to get her to drink, just to get her to relax a little bit." They walked into the living room where the babies were in their playpen, standing up holding tightly to the edge, avidly watching their mother and the older girls. Santana was kneeling on the ground with the three girls around her. Santana turned to look up at the three women who had entered the room.

"My bean, my bug, and my bubble are complaining that I haven't been around to babysit them as much since double-trouble were born."

"It's true, mommy!" Harper cried. Quinn couldn't help but smile at her youngest child's slight lisp when she said 'it's'."

"I know, darling," Quinn said, placing her hand on her daughter's head, "but Aunt B and Aunt S are really busy now with little babies." Harper scrunched her forehead, looking both confused and a little sad.

"Hey, come here," Santana said, pulling the girl in for a tight hug. "I promise, I'll talk to your mom tonight, and we'll find sometime where you can have a sleepover here before your dad gets back, ok?" Harper just nodded her head, sadly. "Now, why don't you go pick out what games we're going to play tonight, ok?" She nodded again and then ran over to Brittany and Santana's game cabinet.

"You don't have to do that, San, I know how it is just having one baby." Quinn said.

"No, it will be nice, and you need some non-child time, Q. Plus, I miss your girls."

"They are pretty delightful, Quinn," Rachel added.

"They take after their mother." Quinn said with a smirk.

"Don't push your luck, Q. I think I just agreed to have five kids in my house so you could get a break."

"Fair enough." Quinn said as Harper rushed over with Candy Land.

"Candy Land it is!" Santana said to Harper, wrapping her arm around the little girl. "How about we get some dinner so we can get started as soon as possible?" She looked down at Harper who just nodded and then ran to grab her sisters.

"Who is that?" Rachel nudged Quinn and nodded her head over to Santana. "I thought I was going to have dinner with Santana Lopez, but clearly she has been replaced by some child-loving impostor."

"Let's go get food," Santana said, picking her son up from the playpen. Brittany already had their daughter in the kitchen. "Aren't you excited, little man? Aunt Berry is here so we get to have whole-grain vegan pasta with vegan meatballs and salad for dinner! Aren't you glad mommy invited her? Maybe we'll even get to hear more about the latest musical theater she's in!" Santana may have been talking in the baby voice, but her sarcasm was still apparent. "Although I guess it doesn't matter to you," she said, grasping the baby's hand and waving it up and down as she held him. "You still get to have milk instead of vegan cardboard…"

"I guess not that much has changed…" Rachel said to Quinn as they followed Santana into the kitchen.

They ate while they played Candy Land. Brittany had tried to get Santana to have a glass of wine, but she had refused. They were already weaning the babies; they were at half formula and half milk now and everything came from the bottle. Santana figured that she had already made it nearly 19 months without drinking, what was one more? After two rounds of Candy Land, Quinn's three were falling asleep and the twins were in their playpen, watching the adults avidly.

"Do you want to put them to bed?" Quinn asked. Santana looked at the clock.

"It's 8:45, there's no way they're going to sleep now." Brittany yawned.

"They don't sleep, Quinn. I think they're vampires. Or werewolves. Or some other demons that function on two hours of sleep a day." Santana nodded. Quinn went to the kitchen to pour her and Rachel another glass of wine. "What if their father is a vampire, San, and I gave birth to half-vampire babies like Renesmee Cullen?" Brittany whispered to Santana.

"Impossible, because then we would have had to turn you into a vampire too. And they would be aging super fast and shit and probably would be talking by now so we would know why they were upset all night long…" Brittany rested her head on Santana's shoulder. "Besides, even if they were mini-vampires, we would love them all the same." Brittany nodded into Santana's shoulder as Quinn returned with two glasses of wine. Rachel couldn't believe these two had children.

"Well," Quinn said, handing a glass of wine to Rachel, "since at least my children have fallen asleep, why don't we play a game more appropriate for adults?" Santana raised an eyebrow, which did not go unnoticed by Quinn. "I meant like Catchphrase, Santana, or Trivial Pursuit, or Scrabble."

"Catchphrase." Brittany said, simply. She walked over to the game cabinet and pulled out the game.

"Have you ever played Catchphrase with Brittany and Santana?" Quinn asked, leaning over to Rachel. Rachel just shook her head and Quinn laughed. "You're in for an experience…"

Quinn started, setting off the beeper on the machine. "Um, if you're on the Titanic and it's sinking, the people saved got to go in these…"

"Boats!" Santana yelled.

"Close, certain kinds that save your…"

"Lifeboats!" Rachel yelled. Quinn quickly handed her the game.

"You fix something when it is…"

"Broken!" Santana yelled, as Rachel passed the game off to her.

"Slappy and Skippy!" Santana yelled.

"Squirrel!" Brittany replied, taking the game from Santana.

"Glitter!"

"Pride!" Santana yelled as Brittany handed the game back to Quinn.

They played for an hour, until Santana called a break time so she could put a very sleepy looking Nico to bed and Quinn and Rachel could get another glass of wine.

"Those two…they're even weirder than I remembered," Rachel said as Quinn finished pouring the bottle into Rachel's glass.

"I told you, Catchphrase with them is an interesting experience."

"I know but Brittany getting 'recipe' just from the word 'confusing'? Santana getting 'broccoli' from 'where gummy bears live'? Brittany getting 'Strip Poker' just from 'naked royal flush? Or 'soda jerk' from 'sweet bubbly Puck'? I don't get it."

"I'm working on this theory where the two of them literally share the same brain…"

"I mean, after tonight, it would make sense." They walked back into the living room where Santana was cradling a very alert Olivia and singing her a lullabye. Quinn looked over at her own sleeping children.

"God, they can sleep anywhere," Quinn said, gesturing to Harper, Lily, and Hannah who were fast asleep on Brittany and Santana's living room floor.

"I wish I could say the same for ours," Brittany said.

"I've basically given up on the idea of sleep for the next 18 years," Santana added. "So, seriously Quinn. When does Justin get back?"

"Supposedly a week from Monday."

"Ok, how about we take the girls Saturday night and drop them back at your sometime Sunday afternoon. That way you get a little pre-Justin Quinn time. You know, you can get your hair-did or whatever." Brittany laughed out loud at her wife.

"Was that an attempt at an insult?" She asked.

"I'm off my game," Santana said, shaking her head, "so little sleep."

"Well, I'd definitely really appreciate it, if it wouldn't be too much for you." Quinn said.

"The twins barely sleep anyway, and you know we always love having your girls." Brittany replied, taking Olivia from Santana and placing a bottle in her mouth.

"I have an early screening Saturday, so I'll swing by yours afterwards and pick the girls up, probably around 4, ok Q?" Santana said.

"That sounds wonderful."

They talked for another half an hour or so before everyone decided it would be best to get to bed. Santana picked up Harper, Rachel picked up Lily, and Quinn picked up Hannah to get the girls into the car.

"Thanks for helping me manage them," Quinn said, once the girls were buckled in the backseat.

"Of course, Q." Santana said, pulling her in for a quick hug. "I'll see you next Saturday."

"Definitely. Thanks, San."

"Bye, Berry," Santana said, playfully punching Rachel on the arm.

"Bye, Kangaroo," Rachel said, using the nickname Brittany had accidentally revealed during Catchphrase.

"Just because we're not in High School, does not mean I'm beyond hitting you, Berry." Rachel quickly scampered towards her car. "Bye, guys." Santana said, retreating towards her house, clearly not having the energy these days to engage in any sort of fight with Rachel.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn said, as she opened her car door, "you want to have dinner some time this week? You know, it'll be pretty exciting. Vegan food, three kids, animated movie…the works." She bashfully smiled over at Rachel.

"I'd love to. Let me know when works for you."

* * *

Rachel got in her car and muted the Wicked soundtrack that was playing as she drove back to her apartment in Beachwood Canyon. It was only twenty minutes from Brittany and Santana's, but it felt like a world apart. She loved her street, and she was growing to love the part of Hollywood she was living in, but she wasn't sure it was ever going to feel homey the way their house in Silverlake did. She checked her mail and laid a few bills out on the table, just the ones that had to be paid right away, and filled a glass with some water from the fridge, before shutting the lights and heading upstairs. She stripped down to her underwear and slipped into her Queen size bed in her empty three bedroom house. As she plugged her phone in she noticed a new text message.

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_ How's Thursday?_

_ Sent: Friday, May 20, 11:05pm_

_ Rachel Berry:_

_ Perfect._

_ Sent: Friday, May 20, 110:06pm_

_ Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_ Six okay?_

_ Sent: Friday, May 20, 11:10pm_

_ Rachel Berry:_

_ Absolutely._

_ Sent: Friday, May 20, 11:12pm_

_ Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_ Great. Sleep well, Rach._

_ Sent: Friday, May 20, 11:15pm_

Rachel wasn't sure if she was supposed to respond, so she thought on it while lying in her bed for a bit.

_Rachel Berry:_

_ Thanks. Look forward to it. Night, Quinn_

_ Sweet dreams._

_ Sent: Friday, March 20, 11:30pm._

Rachel curled in her queen-size bed holding her pillow and let the light sound of the rain drift her into sleep. A few miles west, Quinn was curled in a ball pulling her blankets tightly around her in her California King, listening to the distant roll of thunder, so unusual in Southern California, and so unusual this time of year. She heard a light knock on her door, and then Harper popped just her head in.

"Can I sleep in here, mom?"

"Of course," Quinn said, patting on the bed as Harper hopped in and snuggled under the covers. It took less that 15 minutes of thunder before all three girls were in her bed, more than enough space for all of them. Quinn sighed happily as Harper snuggled into her left and Hannah in her right. She knew she wasn't really alone.

A few miles east, Santana and Brittany listened to the light rainfall and the crashing of thunder.

"I can't believe their sleeping so soundly." Santana said, as they watched the twins sleep quietly in their cribs.

"Maybe they find the rain peaceful?" Brittany said, snuggling deeper into her wife's neck.

"Let's move to Seattle." Santana said. Brittany giggled.

" Why don't we just appreciate this alone time while we have it, San?" Santana nodded and pulled her wife in for a kiss.

"I like the way you think," Santana said, as she tightened her grasp around Brittany's waist. When they were forced to separate for air, Brittany grabbed Santana's pinkie and skipping led them down the hall into their bedroom.

* * *

The next morning Santana wandered around Target with a large coffee, barely able to keep her eyes open. She took inventory of the cart, diapers, shampoo, a pack of socks, paper towels…she shook her head. She had come to Target for _one_ thing, but Brittany had been texting her every ten minutes to pick something else up so what would have been a ten minute trip had turned into 45 minutes. She thought she heard familiar voices coming from the electronics aisle, so she swung her cart in that direction.

"Aunt S!" Lily came running over to give Santana a hug.

"I thought I heard familiar voices." The rest of the Fabray-Scott clan came towards Santana.

"Jesus, San," Quinn said, "you look awful. Up all night, again."

"You bet." Santana said, attempting to control the smirk forming on her lips.

"What's that face?" Quinn asked, puzzled by what looked like the beginning of a distinctive Santana smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Q." Quinn was confused. "Ah, finally! The electronics aisle, I should have known." Santana walked over and picked something off the shelf. "Well, I finally found what I came in here for, so I'm going to go home and take a nap." Quinn looked at the box in Santana's hand.

"A Rain Sound Machine?"

"Mmhmm. We found out last night that apparently the trick to getting the babies to sleep is rain. Rain! Damn you, beautiful Los Angeles weather."

"But it rained last night," Quinn said.

"Yeah?"

"So…why are you so ti…oh," Quinn said, finally understanding the reason behind Santana's previous smirk, and the one forming on her lips now.

"Bye, Fabray! Bye, mini-Fabrays!" Santana said as she walked out of the aisle towards the checkout line. Lily tugged at the bottom of Quinn's shirt.

"Why's Aunt S acting so weird?" Quinn just shrugged.

"She and Aunt B are probably doing it again," Hannah said. Quinn stopped rolling her cart.

"Doing what again?" Lily asked.

"I don't know what," Hannah replied, "but my friend Tommy at school said that his mom and dad were all tired and grumpy after his little sister was born, and that his Aunt said it was because they were too tired to do it. But we couldn't figure out what 'do it' was…" Both girls now looked up at Quinn who was just standing in the aisle.

"Oh my," was all Quinn could think of to say, deciding it was best to just ignore this one and continue her errands.

* * *

Thanks again for reading and reviewing :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thank you thank you thank you for all of your reviews! I love them. This chapter was getting way out of hand, length-wise, so I had to divide into two parts. Part two will be up shortly though! Also, I keep forgetting to mention, the title is taken from the Imogen Heap song _Hide and Seek_. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Saturday couldn't have come soon enough. Don't get her wrong, Quinn loves her children. Absolutely adores her children. Knows that she would give life and limb for said children. But, sometimes, a thirty-year-old just needs a break from children. The week had been difficult, to say the least. There was the normal aggravation—juggling the extracurricular schedules of three kids, tackling Los Angeles traffic and making sure that Hannah made it to Ballet, Lily was picked up on time from soccer practice, that they all had their bags packed for their swim lessons before she took them to their violin lessons. This week had been especially bad though. Monday, Lily got in a fight at school and punched a boy in the nose and had to be picked up early. Tuesday, the girls missed the bus, Quinn's car broke down as she drove them to school, and Harper threw a temper tantrum on the shoulder of the 101. Wednesday Harper threw another tantrum while Hannah was trying to finish her homework, which prompted Hannah to rush up to her bedroom slamming the door and proclaiming Quinn the "worst mother ever" and cry about missing her father. Thursday everyone behaved, but Quinn suspected it was only because Aunt Rachel came for dinner and a movie and somehow her children always managed to lock up their bad behavior around company. Friday, Lily got in another fight, Harper threw a temper tantrum in the hallway of the school as Quinn tried to get to the Principal's office. Hannah wouldn't stop complaining during Lily's Powderpuff Football game that Quinn was the worst mother ever for making her come with them and at 8 she was old enough to stay home by herself or go to Aunt Brittany and Aunt Santana's. While Quinn was trying to explain that they were going there tomorrow, Lily got hit in the face with the football and they had to go to the hospital. Harper threw a temper tantrum in the waiting room. Needless to say, as Quinn packed her girls' sleepover supplies Saturday afternoon, it was certainly with a wave of relief.

Meanwhile, Santana was leaving a screening in Hollywood. She secured her Bluetooth in her ear.

"B?" Santana asked, as she weaved through traffic.

"Hey, babe, what's up?"

"Nothing, I'm just leaving the screening, heading over to Quinn's. Everything ready over there?"

"Yup. Pre-ordered pizzas, they'll be here at 7. Went to the grocery store, got banana split makings, popcorn, and ingredients for a Grand Slamtana breakfast in the morning. I already own every Disney DVD made in the last, I don't know, 100 years, so we don't have to worry about that one. I was thinking we would take them to the park before the pizza gets here, see if we can tire them out a bit."

"This is going to be interesting," Santana said as she pulled in front of Quinn's house. When she rang the doorbell she could hear the scurrying and excited cries of the girls. She couldn't help but smile to herself. Lily was the first to the door.

"Aunt S!" She cried, jumping into Santana's arms. She had her Adidas skateboard backpack already on.

"She's been wearing her backpack all day, Santana," Quinn said as she ushered the other two girls towards the door. "They are so excited. You have no idea."

"Good," Santana grinned at Quinn. "We're going to have sooo much sugar!" She tousled Hannah's hair. Quinn glared at her. "You guys ready? You have everything?" The three nodded, all holding on to their backpack straps. "Then let's go and have some real fun!" Lily dropped her skateboard and rode over to the car, while Santana walked with the other two girls.

"A little help, Santana?" Quinn said. Santana turned around to see Quinn fumbling with a car seat, a booster chair, and a duffel bag.

"What the hell is all that?"

"Language, Santana. And Lily and Harper still need car seats, they're under six and under 60lbs. And _this_," Quinn said, gesturing to the duffel bag "is the rest of their stuff."

"They're only gone overnight, Quinn. Don't you think this is a little excessive?"

"Oh, don't blame me. They insisted. Lily couldn't fit a football and a soccer ball in her backpack, and Hannah said that if Lily got to bring two toys to play with Aunt S then she should at least get to bring her Barbie dollhouse to play with Aunt B, and Harper can't sleep without Platypus," Santana raised her eyebrow, "the enormous stuffed duck Brittany got her. And then for some reason some crowns, a plastic sword, an eye patch, and a tri-cornered hat got thrown in. I also think there might be some vampire teeth in there…"

"I guess it's a good thing I picked them up in my SUV instead of B's little Prius." Santana said, lifting the duffel bag and throwing it in the trunk. They got the car seats buckled in and Santana was taught how to unbuckle the girls, and Quinn explained that Lily needed to take her thyroid medicine at 6pm and where Hannah's inhaler was and that Harper was allergic to shellfish (as though Santana had never babysat them before, she thought to herself as she sat in the car with the window rolled down listening to Quinn go on. And who feeds a four-year-old shellfish at a sleepover?)

"You girls be good for Aunts S and B, ok?" The girls nodded. "If you need anything, just call me. And thanks so much for doing this, Santana, I really appreciate it." Santana just nodded. Quinn waved at the car as it sped off the block and walked back in her house. She took a deep breath, appreciating the newfound silence. She looked at the clock, it was 4:30, and laid down on the couch, wondering what she was going to with her next 24 hours of freedom.

* * *

"Oh my God," Santana said, as she lugged the girls' duffel bag into the guest room. "It's going to be a long night." Brittany laughed. Within 15 minutes, the dollhouse was out and being attacked by a sword-wielding, crown-wearing, Lily, who called herself the "Princess Knight" and it was being defended, to no avail, by Hannah, donned in an eye-patch and vampire teeth, also known as the "Vampire-Pirate". Harper was practicing somersaults in the dining room and Santana was holding up Nico with her nose scrunched up, apparently trying to determine if he needed his diaper changed. Brittany quickly picked up Olivia who had taken to chewing on a small piece that had fallen off the Barbie house and cleared her throat. There was no response. She tried again. Again no one noticed.

"LISTEN UP!" Brittany shouted. All six heads, including Santana's, turned to her in shock. Brittany _never_ yelled. "We're going to the park. Lily, you can bring either the soccer ball _or _the football, not both. Whichever one you don't bring today, we'll bring to the park tomorrow. Harper, we can't bring Platypus with us, he's too big, but I can give you one of my little stuffed ducks, if you'd like." Harper just nodded. "Hannah, you can choose one toy to bring…but not the Barbie house," she added quickly, "and Santana, I need you to go change Nico if he needs it, double-check the diaper bag for two bottles, four diapers, baby powder, and sunscreen. Everyone…go!" Everyone jumped to attention while Brittany got the stroller out. Within ten minutes everyone was ready. Lily skated in front with her helmet securely fastened, Harper rode on Santana's back, and Hannah held Brittany's hand while she pushed the stroller.

"I like it when you get authoritative," Santana whispered over to Brittany.

"Maybe, after the girls are gone, we can get that rain machine out and I can show you some _real_ authority…" Brittany smirked over at her wife who felt her cheeks flush.

An hour and a half later, Santana was exhausted. She didn't understand where kids got their energy. She laid down on the blanket Brittany brought and tickled her son who was crawling around. Brittany was feeding Olivia, and Harper, Hannah, and Lily resumed their game of vampires and pirates without Master Vampirate Santana.

"This is worse than a Sue Sylvester morning practice," Santana said, rolling onto her back and picking up Nico, gently throwing him in the air every couple of minutes.

"I'm going to have to tell Q you said that." Brittany said, giggling, "and stop throwing our son."

"He likes it!" Sure enough, he _was _laughing. Brittany leaned down gave Santana a quick peck on the lips.

"I think this is kind of fun." Brittany said.

"Tell me what you think in 6 hours…" Santana laid the baby on her chest. Just as she was about to close her eyes, two men who had been having a romantic picnic prior to their boisterous arrival stopped by their blanket.

"Sorry if we interrupted your…date?" Brittany said, cautiously, not wanting to offend them, but noting their held hands.

"Oh, no, absolutely not. You were entertaining. We just stopped to tell you that you have a beautiful family."

"Oh, thank you," Santana said, "but they're not all ours. Just the babies."

"I wish," Brittany added, just as Santana simultaneously said, "thank god". The two women turned to look at each other, panic in Santana's eyes.

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise," the man who hadn't spoken yet said with a smile. "Well your children really are adorable. Just thought you should know." The two men walked off as Brittany and Santana thanked them.

"You are adorable, you know that?" Santana said to Nico, while she wiggled him in a little dance on her stomach.

"We should get going, San, the pizza's going to be there in thirty minutes." They began the long process of packing up the kids and getting them home.

* * *

It turned out that what Quinn was going to spend her free evening doing was sleeping. She woke up on the couch in the same position she had first laid down on it. She checked her phone, it was nearly 8 o'clock, she decided to see if her husband was still awake on the east coast where he was running a camp for the University of Florida football team.

"Hello?" A tired voice answered the phone.

"Hey, baby, I'm surprised you're still awake."

"I'm not, really. Listen, Quinn, can I call you back tomorrow? I'm exhausted."

"Ok…I just, I have the house to myself tonight."

"That's nice. I'll call you in the morning. I love you."

"I love you too, baby." He hung up the phone. Ok, so spending the night talking to her husband on the phone was out. She tried Mercedes.

"Hey Quinn, what's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out tonight? Brittany and Santana are watching the girls."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I'm playing in the bay tonight. Rain check?"

"Definitely." Quinn looked down at her phone again. She felt weird about calling Rachel for some reason. It wasn't that she didn't have a great time when they hung out lately, it was just they had been hanging out so much Quinn was worried about looking clingy. She decided to press send anyway.

"Hey, I'm surprised to hear from you tonight!" Rachel said when she answered the phone.

"Why's that?"

"Oh, I just assumed you'd want to be away from all living beings since tonight's the night Brittany and Santana are watching the girls, right?" Quinn laughed.

"Just all living beings under 18."

"Ah, I see. Well, what are you doing with your 24 hours of freedom?"  
"Well, I napped, but that's actually why I'm calling you. What do you say to a little delivery from Real Food Daily and a movie _without_ animated animals? If you're free of course."

"That sounds lovely, Quinn. See you in twenty?"

"Sure. Oh, and what do you want me to order?"

"Anything, all their food is delicious."

Sure enough, Rachel showed up at her door promptly twenty minutes later with a selection of movies in hand.

"They all feature people, they're all rated at least PG-13, and only some of them are musicals," Rachel said smiling.

"Great, you're just in time, the food just got here."

"What did you get?" Rachel asked as they walked towards the kitchen.

"Well you were so vague…I didn't really know what to get. So I got a little bit of everything?" Rachel's mouth dropped open when she saw the island in Quinn's kitchen.

"There are like six bags of food here, Quinn."

"Well you can take some of it home with you. And I have three growing children."

"Who just love vegan food, I'm sure." They settled on eating a little bit of everything, like a buffet, and to not even bother with plates, they just grabbed forks, a bottle of wine, two glasses, and then laid all of the food out on the coffee table and put in _Moulin Rouge_. Quinn shoved her fork into the vegan enchiladas as the movie began. She loved being an adult.

* * *

Brittany's plan to tire the girls out had worked like a charm. They got home just as the pizza arrived and gathered around the table outside to eat pizza and drink _**gasp**_ soda. After dinner was cleaned up, Santana began making banana splits.

"Who wants to pick out a movie?" Santana asked.

"Me!" They all squealed.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Santana said, "you know on TV, when they say that they're going to open the Disney Vault?" The girls all nodded. "Aunt B, here, actually owns the Disney vault." The girls looked over at Brittany and she just nodded.

"You want to see?" Brittany asked. They all nodded again. She took them into their living room and opened up the DVD cabinet where Brittany did in fact own every Disney movie ever made.

"Wow, Aunt B, you must be pretty important to have the Disney vault," Lily said.

"You have no idea." They argued over what movie to watch for the next 15 minutes before settling on Mulan while Santana finished making everyone's dessert. All five children were asleep within 45 minutes. They quietly carried everyone to bed, one at a time, and then snuggled up on the couch.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Brittany said as they finished Mulan.

"Rough…but fun."

* * *

It was midnight, Moulin Rouge had long been over, and Rachel and Quinn were well into their second bottle of wine.

"So, Rach, how come you're not seeing anyone?" Quinn asked, taking a bite of vegan nachos. Rachel's face fell. "I'm sorry," Quinn quickly said, "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant, you know…you're young, you're gorgeous, you're successful, you're kind of famous…I just would have assumed that you'd have men lined up at your doorstep."

"It's hard. I work all the time. I travel for work. I usually end up dating my castmates and it usually ends the minute a show is over. Plus, whenever I meet someone outside of a show, it turns out their just using me to get a foot in the door." Quinn just nodded silently and took another sip of her wine. "You and Justin met in college, right?"

"Yup. The first weekend. We were college sweethearts," Quinn said, fondly thinking back on the party that she met her husband. "Then he got drafted into the NFL and I got pregnant so we got married. And the rest," she gestured vaguely to the house, "is history."

"That's kind of nice." Rachel said, looking down at her glass of wine.

"Yeah. It's hard though. You know, he spends half the year on the road. When Harper was a toddler she forgot who he was and cried when he tried to pick her up so he started to make more time to come home, but it's worse now than it's ever been before."

"What do you mean?"  
"Well, it's not even Football season. It's May. He's coaching at some camp in Florida, then he's going to be home for a week for Lily's birthday."

"How old is she going to be?"

"Six," Quinn smiled. "And then he's off to mini-camp, then training camp, then preseason, and then the regular season comes back full force. God forbid the Eagles do well this year because then he's gone during the Playoffs and if we're lucky he'll be back home from February until April when it all starts again." Quinn refilled her glass of wine.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said.

"It's fine. I knew what I was getting into when I married him. It's just times like these when he _could_ be home if he wanted to…I just get so frustrated." They sat in silence for a moment. "Anyway, thanks so much for coming over, I really appreciate it."

"Of course! I had fun." Rachel threw back the last of her wine. "I think I should call myself a cab…I'm a little drunk."

"Nonsense, Rach. Do you have plans tomorrow?"

"Nope, we're not shooting this weekend."

"Well, stay here! We can go out to breakfast, maybe get our nails done or go shopping or something? You know, pamper ourselves."

"Well…I mean…"

"Seriously, Rachel. I live in a seven-bedroom house. There's plenty of room."

They put the food away and Quinn led Rache; to one of the spare bedrooms, the one that included a shower and went back to her room to find some pajamas. She lightly knocked on the door and went in, Rachel was looking at pictures of the family on the dresser.

"Here you go, make yourself at home, I'll see you in the morning," Quinn said, smiling as she shut the door. She put on cheerleading shorts and a tank top, but as she was brushing her teeth realized that she forgot to make sure there were towels in the bathroom. She lightly knocked on the door. When she didn't hear a response she tried again. She cautiously opened it, but didn't see Rachel at first.

"Oh my God!" Rachel squealed, "you startled me!" Rachel jumped out of the bathroom in just matching black lace panties and a bra.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you had some towels," Quinn said, her face getting redder by the minute. She wasn't sure why she was reacting like this.

"There are towels." Rachel said.

"Ok. Goodnight, Rachel."

"Night, Quinn." Rachel laughed to herself at Quinn's flustered exit, assuming that she was just drunk and confused.

Quinn settled down into her bed, after drinking a tall glass of water. I shouldn't drink so much, she thought to herself as she drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Over at the Lopez-Pierces, Santana was making sure that the rain sound machine was up and running and that Quinn's daughters were all still asleep. She woke Brittany up from the couch, where they both had been sleeping moments earlier and led her to the bedroom. After they changed and brushed their teeth, they crawled into bed facing each other.

"Hey Britt?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't sleep."

"Try harder." Santana shut her eyes for a second.

"Britt?" Santana ran her bare foot up Brittany's bare leg.

"Yeah?"

"I tried."

"What happened?"

"I couldn't get the image out of my head of you being so commanding this afternoon." Brittany still didn't open her eyes, but she could see a smile forming on the edge of her lips. Santana moved a little closer to her wife and began playing with the bottom hem of her tank top so that her fingers grazed Brittany's stomach. "I keep picturing you in a police uniform," Santana said, moving her face closer so that she was now whispering into Brittany's neck, "with those dark aviator sunglasses," Santana ran her hand up Brittany's long leg, "and I'm the hardened criminal," she hand slid up over Brittany's hip and onto her stomach underneath her shirt. Brittany, ever so subtly shifted her legs so that Santana's leg now rested between them. She could hear her heart pounding faster in her chest. She smirked to herself. She may be a mother now, but she still had skills. "And you need to show me who's boss," she applied a little bit of pressure in between Brittany's legs and Brittany let out a low moan. That was it for Santana. She began feverishly kissing her wife and slipped the tank top she was wearing up over her head.

"Wait, San," Brittany said, pulling away. We can't do this tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because Quinn's kids are here!"

"I'm sure Justin and Quinn have sex when their kids are home."

"Not the same thing."

"The girls are passed out on the other side of the house, I checked the baby monitors, and the doors are locked." Brittany bit her bottom lip, and Santana again applied pressure between her wife's legs. Brittany let out another moan, this time longer as she arched her back. Santana resumed kissing her, tangling her hands in her long blond hair.

"Wait!" Brittany said again, as Santana moaned and let her body collapse onto Brittany's.

"What now, B?"

"I thought I got to be the one in control?" Santana smirked. Brittany reached into the bottom drawer of her end table and before Santana's could protest she flipped her over and handcuffed her to the bed. She straddled her wife who squirmed underneath her. "It's about time you learned who's the boss around here, little lady," Brittany said in a husky voice, as she slid Santana's shorts off and onto the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I can't love you all enough for your reviews! I really appreciate them. This is the second half of the Pierce-Lopez babysitting chapter. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The babies started crying at six. At first, Santana swatted at the baby monitor as though it was an alarm clock but quickly realized that it was her children and she had to get up.

"B…" She said, shoving her wife, "B…Britt…Brittany,"

"Ugh, what do you want, Santana."

"Your children are awake. Go deal with it."

"Oh no, you did _not_ just call them _my_ children," Brittany said through a yawn, "it is _your_ fault we were up until three, so I suggest you go deal with _your _children."

"It was worth it though, wasn't it?" Santana said, snuggling into Brittany's neck.

"It was amazing," Brittany kissed Santana on the lips. "I think I'm going to be more authoritative all the time. Starting now. Go feed the babies."

"Will you at least help me?"

"Ugh," Brittany climbed out of bed, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. "I'll go get them, you go heat up some water for the milk." She slipped a pair of shorts and a tank top on.

"Can't I just pop the bottles in the microwave?"  
"Ugh, Santana, you know you can't microwave breast milk."

"I forgot, I forgot," Santana said, holding up both of her hands in surrender. "You're really taking this authoritative thing to heart, aren't you."

"You know it," Brittany said, and left the room.

* * *

A few minutes later they reconvened in the kitchen. Brittany handed Nico to Santana, and they both took a bottle and tested the temperature on their wrists. It was a routine they were both very familiar with by now. After feeding them, they burped the babies and then put them down in their playpen. Brittany set to work making some coffee, while Santana went outside and grabbed the newspaper. She came back in and slipped her hands around her wife's waist and kissed her cheek.

"I had such a good time last night, B," Santana said. She buried her face in her wife's blond hair, savoring the familiar smell of vanilla and lavender. Brittany turned around so she was facing Santana.

"Me too." She kissed her on the lips, letting her fingers get lost in thick dark hair.

"Ewwww," came a chorus of little girls. Brittany blushed and Santana jumped away.

"What do you mean, ew?" Santana said, rushing over and tickling the three who were still in their onesie pajamas.

"Grown-up kissing is gross," Hannah said, scrunching up her face. Harper and Lily nodded.

"You say that now," Brittany said, tousling Lily's hair, "just give it a few years."

"Like thirty years, maybe, when I'm old and married like you and Aunt S," Lily said, giggling.

"Ouch, I'm not old!" Brittany said, feigning a pout. Lily looked genuinely upset though.

"I'm sorry, Aunt B. You're not old! When I'm grown-up, _maybe_ I'll get married and grown-up kiss, but only if I get to marry someone as pretty as you." Lily turned bright red. Brittany leaned down and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, making Lily's blush deepen. Brittany made eye contact with Santana over her head, knowing that Santana was _so_ going to relay this story to Quinn later.

"It's okay, I'm sure you'll marry someone even prettier." Brittany went to the cupboard to pull out two mugs and poured her and Santana some coffee.

"When I get married, I'm going to marry a football player like Daddy." Brittany smiled at her. "But, I still don't think I'll ever grown up kiss." She stuck her tongue out.

"Do you girls want some hot chocolate while Aunt S and I make breakfast?" They nodded. "Okay, let's go put some cartoons on for you, and I'll bring some hot chocolate in a couple of minutes."

"Do you guys want waffles or pancakes?" Santana called from the kitchen as Brittany tried to find the channel with the cartoons on it.

"Waffles!" All four yelled. Dammit. She had lost Brittany to the cartoons. A couple of minutes later she juggled three cups of hot chocolate into the living room.

"B. You gonna come help me make breakfast?"

"Oh yeah!" Brittany giggled and followed her wife to the kitchen.

* * *

An hour later, they were gathered out on the patio eating breakfast. They had made what Brittany had started referring to as a "Grand Slamtana" when they were in college and Santana would be too hungover to function on Sunday mornings so Brittany, blessed with never having hangovers, would make her pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausage. It was the only thing she knew how to cook for years. Olivia was in her baby swing and Brittany gently rocked her back and forth, while Santana held Nico on her knee. Santana picked up the empty pitcher of orange juice.

"Anyone other than me want more juice?" Santana asked. Harper and Lily raised their hands. "Okay, I'll be right back." She kissed Brittany's head on her way into the house and whispered, "you're beautiful," making Brittany grin. This did not go unnoticed by Lily and Hannah who exchanged brief eye contact. When she came back with the pitcher she poured juice for herself, Lily, and Harper, and sat down. She looked adoringly at her wife. Lily and Hannah stared at them as though they were watching a TV show.

"Did you want juice, baby?" Santana asked Brittany, her voice a little husky and her eyes still looking fawningly at Brittany. The girls looked over at Brittany who was now holding Santana's hand and rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. She just shook her head and returned the same gaze back to Santana. They were pulled out of their trance by Lily and Hannah whispering to each other.

"What are you two whispering about?" Brittany asked. Lily giggled.

"You two _totally _did it last night." Hannah said. Brittany turned bright red and Santana literally spit her juice out on the table. This resulted in more fits of laughter from the girls and more whispering.

"We did not." Santana knew that Quinn and her wife were going to kill her. Apparently, this resulted in her forgetting all of the argumentative skills she had learned in law school and resorted to the argumentative skills of a seven-year-old.

"Did too. I can tell," said Hannah. Santana at least breathed a sigh of relief at this…at least she hadn't _heard_ or worse _seen._

"How can you tell?"

"Well, you looked like you did when we saw you last week at Target." Brittany grew redder, if it was even possible.

"What did I look like at Target?"

"Well, super tired, but also really happy, and your voice was weird, and you had this funny half-smile on your face."

"And Hannah's friend Tommy's aunt told him that when grown ups have babies they get grumpy but then they get happy again when they start doing it again." Lily added, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

"And when I said you and Aunt B were probably doing it, my mom stopped pushing the cart and turned bright red…kind of like you right now, Aunt B…which made me know that you were _definitely_ doing it." Hannah and Lily shared another look. Hannah nudged Lily.

"Well, thing is, our mom wouldn't tell us _what _exactly doing it was. We figured it was cause she didn't know either but was too embarrassed to tell us that she didn't know. But since you guys _are_ doing it, do you think you could tell us what it is?"

"Excuse me for a second, girls. Santana rose from the table and handed Nico to Brittany. "B, do not answer any questions while I'm gone." Santana went inside and found her cell phone and sent out a fast text to Quinn.

_Santana Pierce-Lopez:_

_Quinn. Your daughters are asking me _

_what "doing it" is What am I supposed_

_to do?_

_Sent: Sunday, May 29, 8:30am_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_LOL. You had a lot of sex last night,_

_didn't you? My kids are very perceptive_

_and have apparently picked up on your_

"_I had amazing sex with my hot wife_

_all night long" haze. And I don't know?  
Tell them, be my guest._

_Sent: Sunday, May 29, 8:31am_

_Santana Pierce-Lopez:  
Fuck you, Fabray. You know what,_

_I'm going to tell them all about hot, _

_lesbian sex. How do you feel about that?_

_Sent: Sunday, May 29, 8:33am_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_I know you won't. You'd get too embarrassed._

_Just let Brittany handle it, I'm sure she'll do fine._

_I'm going back to sleep. See you at 4._

_Sent: Sunday, May 29, 8:35am_

Santana returned to the table. Brittany was looking at Santana, panicked. Both girls were looking at Santana expectedly.

"Quinn says to let you tell them." Brittany glared at Santana. Santana decided to start. "Girls, has your mother told you where babies come from yet?" They both nodded. "Can you tell me exactly what she told you?" Santana wouldn't put it past Quinn to have told them that babies came from the cabbage patch or something else equally ludicrous just to avoid an awkward conversation. Like the one she was having now. With someone else's children. Hannah rolled her eyes. She did not understand where _this_ was going, she'd known where babies come from since she was like 4.

"When two people love each other very much they get married and then they have sex and they make a baby." She said rolling her eyes again.

"Great!" Santana said. "That's all doing it is—having sex."

"So you and Aunt B were trying to make another baby?" Lily asked.

"Sure," Santana said, trying to eat her food.

"That doesn't make any sense. Mom told me that babies come from sex, and sex was when a husband puts his thing in his wife's thing." Santana stopped eating.

"It's the same concept, just without the man thing." Santana said.

"So…" Lily said, "Aunt S, you put your…tinkle…inside of Aunt B's?" Santana began to choke. Again.

"I don't understand," Hannah said.

_Santana Pierce-Lopez:_

_Quinn! You're daughter just asked me_

_If I put my TINKLE inside of Aunt B's!_

_Sent: Sunday, May 29, 8:50am_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_Ugh. I told you to let B handle it._

_Sent: Sunday, May 29, 8:52_

Santana looked pleadingly at Brittany.

"Girls, I do think this is something you need to talk more about with your mother," Brittany tried. They both looked at her with their best pouts. "Ok…sometimes, when two adults love each other very much and get married, one of the ways they show that they love each other is to make each other feel good, and they do that in a way similar, or the same, to the way people make babies. That's why it's called making love." They looked like they were thinking about it for a bit.

"That's it?" Hannah asked.

"Yup, and it's a lot like grown up kisses, it's gross and you don't want to think about it until you're grown up, and in love." She smiled at Santana.

"It all sounds gross. Grown ups are kind of…gross. Can we go watch more cartoons?"

"Go ahead," Brittany said, laughing. After the girls had left the room, Santana buried her face in her hands. Brittany put her hand on Santana's back. "It's ok, San, it's over now." Santana turned and smiled at her. "But remind me not to let you be anywhere around when we have to have the sex talk with these two." Santana laughed and picked up Olivia.

"But you're just a little baby," Santana had reverted into her baby voice. "You won't ever need the sex talk. You won't ever need to ask your mama uncomfortable questions like that, will you little Livy?" Santana returned to eating her breakfast. Crisis averted.

* * *

After the second round of text messages, Quinn realized that she was awake for the day. She quickly hopped in the shower, threw on skinny jeans and a tank top and headed downstairs, figuring she would make some coffee and maybe read the paper before Rachel got up. When she got to the kitchen, Rachel was already awake, however, reading the paper.

"Good morning, Quinn." Rachel said, very formally. "There's coffee in the pot, if you'd like."

"Oh! Thanks, Rach."

"Sorry, you told me to make myself at home, and I for one am kind of non-functioning without coffee in the morning."

"I understand," Quinn said as she poured herself a cup.

"So, I'm pretty sure that my children are going to be scarred for life," she said, pulling up a seat next to Rachel and showing her the text messages from the morning.

"Oh. My. God. Santana must be miserable. Also, tinkle, Quinn, really?" Quinn just shrugged. They drank their coffee in silence for a moment.

"So, do you want to go out to breakfast?"

The day had passed by too fast for Quinn. It was 3:30, and they were pulling back into her driveway. She had heard all about Rachel's string of failed relationships, and talked far too long about her frustrations with her husband. They got their hair done and their nails done, and did a little shopping at the Grove. She missed her children, but it was nice to feel like a real person again, at least for 24 hours. She heard Santana's car pull into the driveway at 3:45. She and Rachel headed out to help get everything in the house.

"Quinn. Berry." Santana said, dark sunglasses pulled over her eyes as she got out of the car. Her white v-neck t-shirt was covered in unidentifiable stains and her jeans appeared to be ripped in both of the knees. She opened her trunk and pulled out the duffel bag and carried it into Quinn's kitchen while Rachel and Quinn got sleeping carried a sleeping Harper and Lily, respectively, upstairs and into bed. Santana came back out and carried Hannah up and by the time she got back downstairs the car seats had also been removed from her car.

"You want a cup of coffee, Santana?" Quinn asked, cautiously.

"Sure." She sat across from Rachel at Quinn's kitchen table. Quinn brought three cups of coffee over.

"Were they that bad?" Quinn asked, quietly.

"Yesterday was fine," Santana said. "We went to the park, ate some pizza, had banana splits, all five kids passed out around nine and then I had unbelievable sex with my unbelievably hot wife."

"Okay, that part was unnecessary, Santana." Rachel said.

"The babies woke up at six this morning. We cooked breakfast. Your darling children then made me awkwardly explain lesbian sex to them. We went to the park. Harper and Lily thought it was a great idea to play with a rowdy dog whose leash got tangled around my legs and I skinned this knee," Santana put her left leg up on the table. "Hannah spun Harper too fast on the roundabout, she started to cry so I picked her up, and she promptly vomited breakfast on me," Santana pointed to a brownish stain on her left shoulder. "Brittany suggested we all relax for a bit and maybe eat some lunch, but Lily and Hannah got into juice box wars," Santana pointed to the purple stains crisscrossing her breasts. "Brittany fed Nico, didn't tell me, and handed him to me while she ran to make sure Lily didn't fall of the monkey bars and he spit up on me," she pointed to her right shoulder. "Hannah got a nosebleed," she pointed to the blood around her stomach, "Lily threw a football at my face," Santana removed her sunglasses, revealing not one, but two developing black eyes. Santana pointed to her right eye. "Lily then got in a fight with some boy over the swing set, and when I intervened his father punched me," Santana pointed to her left eye. "Harper had a temper tantrum and Brittany thought maybe it was time we called it a day, so we went home packed the girls up, but as I was taking the duffel bag out to the car I couldn't see that Lily had left her skateboard on the ground, so I tripped on it and fell flat on the pavement," Santana put her right leg up on the table, and pointed to her two skinned elbows.

"I'm so sorry, Santana," Quinn said, trying to restrain her laughter.

"Don't worry…it was all worth it for this one story," Santana said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Your daughters walked in on us kissing in the kitchen…"

"So far I'm not at all surprised."

"And they were grossed out by grown-up kissing. After seeing Brittany's pout, Lily told her that, and I quote, 'maybe I'll get married and grown-up kiss, but only if she can marry someone as pretty as you'. And then she blushed! Your five-year-old blushed at my wife!" Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel laughed out loud. "She's a lesbian. I'm telling you."

"She's five."

"I'm going home, Q. It's been great to see you both. I am taking a bath, nursing my wounds, spending time with my relatively _calm_ children, and having sex with my gorgeous wife. Thanks for the coffee." Santana placed her sunglass back on and walked out the door.

"I should be heading home too, Quinn," Rachel said, standing up. "But I've had a great time these last two days. I'd love to do it again." Quinn walked Rachel to the door.

"Me too. Justin's back in town tomorrow, but I'll see you at Lily's birthday party, right?" Rachel nodded. "We'll make plans then." Quinn pulled Rachel in for a hug.

"Bye, Quinn." Rachel said.

"Bye, Rach." Quinn couldn't decide why it was always so awkward when she and Rachel said goodbye. She decided it wasn't anything to worry about and went to the kitchen to figure out what to cook for dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a little bit more serious than previous ones...probably because it has a little less Brittana than usual...I hope you like it anyway! And, as always, thank you all for your lovely reviews!

* * *

Rachel glanced up at the clock. It was 8pm. She'd been up since 6 that morning, and it was beginning to dawn on her that it was going to be a very long week. She rode the elliptical when she awoke, and then made a quick fruit salad for breakfast. She paid all of her bills, she'd cleaned her apartment, and she finally made some time to go on the Pottery Barn website and order some furniture for one of the spare rooms in her apartment that she was turning into an office. She wasn't sure why—she basically didn't know what else to do with the room. She talked to her dads on the phone for an hour. She played around with her karaoke machine for a bit. She'd read, and watched TV, and went on a walk, and puttered around the house. She ordered in food for lunch _and _ for dinner. Now it was 8, and with shooting cancelled for the next three days, she was at a loss for how to spend her time. She knew that Quinn was busy with Justin, and she also knew that Santana didn't really like her. They were adults now, so Santana had (mostly) learned how to be polite, but they definitely weren't friends. That only left Brittany who had two babies to take care of and Mercedes who was always working. That said, it came as a pleasant surprise when her phone began buzzing on the table.

"Hey, Quinn! What's up?" Rachel said, surprised that Quinn was calling her again.

"Can you come over, Rachel?"

"Sure…what's going on?" Rachel thought Quinn was crying and wasn't sure why she wouldn't have just gone to Brittany and Santana with whatever this was. They were her best friends, after all.

"I'm just so mad. Justin isn't going to get here until Thursday! Thursday. So he'll be here for Lily's birthday and for the birthday party Saturday and then he's leaving again Monday morning! And I would have called Brittany and Santana, but after talking to Hannah it seems that Santana only told us the tip of the iceberg of what they put those two through yesterday and I'd just feel bad asking for a favor again…"

"Of course, I'm on my way."

Rachel Berry wasn't used to this. She wasn't really the kind of friend people called when things were wrong. She was too…well, self-involved for that. Plus, to have Quinn Fabray being the caller was even weirder. Sure, by their senior year in High School they had lost the animosity that existed the first few years, but Rachel would never have gone so far as to call them friends. Then again, there wasn't really anyone in Rachel's life who she would call her friend. Plus, they did have that weird moment their senior year after a party at Puck's, but Rachel had always written that off as alcohol and confusion due to Glee Club's sudden gay frenzy. She pushed the memory out of her mind. Rachel was thirty and had finally come to terms with herself. She loved herself, and she loved to perform, and that didn't make her the most pleasant person to be around. She had finally realized that if something terrible were to happen to her, there would be no one to cry at her bedside, no friends to bring flowers, no one to sing at her grave. Rachel thought about things like that. And Rachel had matured enough to realize that as long as she cared _only_ about herself, no one else was going to care about her. And, frankly, Rachel was lonely. So, she headed over to Quinn's at 8 on a Monday because she was slowly starting to realize that being a star might not be enough for her. Being a star was seeming less important once she realized that a star is only valuable because there are people to watch it shine.

Twenty minutes later, Rachel rang the doorbell at Quinn's house.

"Ugh , thank god you're here." Quinn said, grabbing Rachel's hand and leading her towards the kitchen. She pulled a glass out of a cupboard and filled it half with vodka and half with tonic. "You have to catch up. I don't want to be the only one drunk here." Rachel tentatively took a sip of the drink. "I am just so tired, Rach. I'm tired of having to be the single mom. I'm tired of having to tell him it's okay that I only see him eight weeks of the year and the team gets the other 44." Rachel just nodded, sipping her drink.

"You should tell him, Quinn," Rachel suggested.

"You think I haven't told him? This is his job, Rachel. I don't need to be reminded again that this is what keeps us in this _unnecessary _house, keeps the kids in private schools, and me in these _stupid_ $900 heels. I don't need $900 heels!" Rachel just nodded. "Do you ever feel, when you're over at Brittany and Santana's, like they did everything right?" Rachel scrunched her forehead.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, their house is nice, and has such Brittany character, but it's not over the top like this monstrosity. And they live in a good school district, so they don't have to worry about that. Brittany's a dancer, which she loves, and Santana loves her work, but they're not filthy rich and they're not famous, but they're…well they're happy."

"Yes, I do know what you mean, but I don't really think it's worth your time to compare your life to them. None of us will ever have what they have. It's like they were born for the sole purpose of loving each other. The rest of us have to work at it a little bit….why don't we say we do something to get all of this off your mind. What was that stupid movie you liked so much when we were in high school?"

"I liked lots of stupid movies when we were in High School..."

"That's right, I bet we could find one of them and stream it on Netflix." Quinn and Rachel settled into the couch, and started browsing the "Teen Romantic Comedies" secton. Quinn rested her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"Thanks for coming over, Rach."

"Of course." Before long, Quinn was passed out. Rachel helped her up the stairs and led her into her bedroom, and removed her $900 shoes and tucked her into bed. Rachel was pulling the sheets up on her when Quinn woke up.

"Rachel, can you set the alarm for 6am? I need to make sure that Hannah and Lily are at the bus stop by 7:03 and that Harper is at Preschool by 8."

"Of course." Quinn reached out her hand and cupped Rachel's cheek.

"Thanks, Rachel. Thanks for being so nice." Rachel just kissed Quinn on the forehead and got up and turned out the lights.

* * *

Quinn groaned at the throbbing in her head the next morning as the light poured through her windows. She opened her cell phone. 10:02. 10:02! She jumped out of bed and threw her robe on her. Her children were late for school. She couldn't _believe_ that she could be so irresponsible. She ran downstairs, silently cursing herself for allowing her personal problems to affect her children. Rachel was sitting in the kitchen, reading the paper.

"RACHEL! Why didn't you set my alarm? Where are my kids?"

"Calm down, Quinn," Rachel said, "I figured you'd need to sleep off that hangover so I stayed over last night. Hannah and Lily told me where there school bus stop was and so they're off at school right now and I called Santana and after receiving a long lecture on interrupting their apparently very scheduled morning routine she gave me directions to Harper's preschool, _and_ Brittany informed me that the only cure for your hangovers is coffee, juice, Diet Coke, water, and the Grand Slamtana. Which, in your case, I have altered the portmanteau to Grand Slambray." She pulled out a chair for Quinn. Quinn didn't even have words. She literally had no idea what to say. So, she sat down and took a sip of each of her beverages while Rachel brought her a plate of food.

"Extra bacon, of course," Rachel said as she placed the plate in front of Quinn.

"But, Rach, don't you have to work or something? I can't believe you did all of this…"

"There was a problem securing a location. I'm off until Wednesday afternoon."

"Oh my god! I'm sorry Rach, you shouldn't have to spend your days off taking care of my dumb, hungover ass."

"No worries, Brittany is bringing the babies over around lunch time and then we figured we'd get some sun and hang out for a bit, maybe get your mind off of Justin? I also went home to get my karaoke machine—singing about your feelings has never been a bad thing, Quinn." Quinn raised her eyebrows at this. "I think Santana is going to come over for dinner, if that's alright? They both felt pretty bad that they couldn't be here for you last night. Well…I think Brittany felt bad and probably pouted. I think Santana might actually be _scared_ of Lily now."

"She probably sees too much of herself in her," Quinn chuckled, eating another piece of bacon.

* * *

Brittany arrived an hour later with the twins. Quinn had managed to take a shower and get dressed, but she definitely wasn't her usual self by the time Brittany got there.

"I'm sorry, Q," Brittany said, as she rolled in extra long stroller. "I can't believe he did this to you again. You should have called us last night."

"I couldn't do that to you, Britt. You guys already do too much for me." Quinn couldn't help but feel a little bad; Brittany was smiling, but she definitely looked a little frazzled.

"Well, I fed them before coming over, so they're about ready to pass out, I was hoping you hadn't completely dismantled your crib?"

"Of course not," Quinn said. "_Justin_ has been saying he would do it for years, but, of course, it's still fully intact in the basement. Rachel and Quinn went downstairs to carry the crib up and Brittany placed both babies in it and set up the rain machine, so she could spend some time with her friends.

* * *

Rachel opened the door when Santana showed up around 6, still in her suit for work, which made Rachel chuckle to herself. She had never seen Santana in her professional clothes. Santana had a clear look of panic in her eyes when she heard three squealing girls running down the hall to greet her. Rachel couldn't contain her laughter at seeing the fear in Santana's eyes. If she had known in High School that all she needed were a few children to scare the cheerleading bully, her life would have been _so_ much easier. The girls had apparently forgotten what they had put Santana through over the weekend however, so she pulled them in for a tight hug, and then walked hand in hand with Lily to the kitchen to find her wife.

"Hey B," she said, giving Brittany a quick kiss on the lips.

"Rough day?"

"As always. Where are my babies?" Brittany gestured over to the playpen they had also dragged up from the basement. Santana picked up each of the twins individually and gave them a kiss on the head, and then picked up Olivia and sat her down in her lap playing peek-a-boo. Some of the stress immediately lifted off of Santana's face. Rachel watched them from the other side of the kitchen. The tension in Santana's face completely disappeared as she watched the baby giggle every time she revealed her face. That big, signature, Santana smile that Rachel had seen so rarely when she saw Santana everyday in High School now seem plastered to her face. Brittany walked over to Santana and picked up their other child. They appeared to be talking about their days, all while nuzzling the babies who were crawling all over their mothers' laps.

"It's so natural for them, isn't it?" Quinn said, noticing that Rachel was staring. Rachel just nodded. At thirty, Rachel was finding experiences like these to be the funniest. At sixteen she would have guaranteed that she would never be in this scenario; watching Brittany and Santana fawn over infants, a perfectly happy and normal couple, while she and Quinn basked in their loneliness together. It would have seemed…impossible. She guessed that this was the reality of getting older. Life never takes you where you expect. As though Quinn was reading her thoughts, she leaned over the counter.

"Crazy, isn't it. Who are we?" Rachel just shrugged again.

By the time they sat down for dinner, Quinn's hangover was finally starting to wear off. Quinn sat at the head of the table and Harper, Lily, and Hannah sat on one side with Brittany, Santana, and Rachel on the other side. Brittany and Santana both had a baby in their laps.

"I think you all owe Aunt S an apology," Quinn said, after everyone was settled at the table. "How about you start, Hannah, you're the oldest."

"Sorry, Aunt S." Santana smiled.

"Specifics," Quinn said. Secretly she really just wanted to rehear her daughters' versions of their sleepover.

"Sorry for sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night, and for asking you inappropriate questions, and mimicking the sounds you and Aunt B made when you were doing it when old people walked by in the park, and for making Harper vomit on you, shooting grape juice at you, poking Harper until she had a temper tantrum, and putting Lily's skateboard in front of you to see you trip on it."

"Lily?" Quinn prompted.

"Sorry for asking you inappropriate questions, mimicking Aunt B when you guys were doing it whenever old people walked by, playing with that dog when you told me not too, shooting grape juice at you, hitting Hannah in the nose so she got a nosebleed, throwing my football at your face, and telling that boy that if he didn't get off the swing my lesbian Aunt was going to beat him up."

"It's okay, girls," Santana said, softly smiling to her nieces across from her. They all had sheepish smiles on her face.

Quinn just smirked.

* * *

After dinner, Brittany and Rachel did the dishes while Quinn, Santana and the girls played with the babies in the family room.

"You think you're going to stay here again tonight?" Brittany asked Rachel.

"No, I suppose I should probably go home…water my nonexistent plants or something."

"It probably would mean a lot to her if you stayed," Brittany said cautiously, worried about overstepping her bounds. "You know, before the babies, Santana and I would stay here all the time when Justin was away for long periods of time. It's kind of like a vacation in Beverly Hills. I feel bad, you know, a little bit like we've abandoned her, but we just can't stay here anymore, with the kids and all…"

"She understands that, Britt." Rachel smiled at Brittany.

"Anyway, think about it," Brittany said to Rachel.

In the family room, the girls had started to play a game in which they made towers with their blocks and the babies knocked them down, resulting in hysterical laughter from the babies, which in turn made the older girls laugh. Santana didn't understand it, but it was one of the cutest things she'd ever seen. She leaned against the couch next to Quinn, stretching her legs out.

"You doing okay, Q?" She asked, reaching out to hold Quinn's hand. Quinn nodded.

"Just disappointed." They sat in silence. "Why wouldn't he want to be around this?" She was looking longingly over at her three daughters who were giggling and rolling around on the carpet. "I think it's them I feel the saddest for. Look at them. I know," she looked at Santana, smiling, "maybe sometimes they can be a little bit of a nightmare, but look at them now. They're just so happy, and so innocent, and they deserve a dad who wants to get to know them, who _wants_ to spend time with his daughters. Hannah idolizes him, and Lily…well Lily wants to be him…" Santana thought it best not to make any lesbian jokes at Lily's expense in this moment. "You know, I don't think Lily even _likes_ football, but she practices everyday, and all three ask me every single night when he's coming home, and every single night I have to tell them that it's soon, even though, I never know if that's the truth." Santana looked down. She didn't know how to help Quinn, had absolutely no frame of reference for the way Quinn was feeling. "It'd be different, I suppose if it were just me. I can understand if he doesn't want to be with _me_ anymore. But how can he not want to be around them?"

"I don't know, Q, I just don't know." Santana tightened her grip on Quinn's hand. "He must be crazy."

* * *

"I think I might stay here again tonight, Quinn, if it's alright with you?" Rachel said after Brittany and Santana had left and the girls had been put to bed. "It's late, I don't feel like driving, and I don't have anywhere to be in the morning."

"Oh!" Quinn said, surprised, but definitely not disappointed. "Great, well do you want to watch a movie or something then?"

"Sure." The two settled on the couch and argued about what to watch on Netflix for the second night in a row.

* * *

Santana and Brittany had driven separately, so Santana stopped on the way to pick up a gallon of milk and by the time she got home Brittany had already put the babies in bed. She walked into the kitchen to put the milk away and was surprised to find Brittany sitting at the counter.

"What's up, B?" She asked, sitting down next to her wife and taking both of her hands.

"I'm worried about Quinn."

"What do you mean?"  
"She seems sad. Sadder than usual."  
"I know."

"She seems sadder than she was after Hannah was born, which was kind of scary sad." Santana thought back to that period. Quinn was 22, dealing with terrible postpartum depression, her new husband was gone for six months, and she had a newborn that she suddenly had to learn how to take care of on her own.

"Justin is coming home soon, B. Hopefully that will make a difference," Brittany nodded.

"I'm sleepy."

"Me too, B." They got up and walked towards the bedroom. Brittany went in, but Santana kept walking.

"Where are you going, San?"

"Just wanted to say goodnight to the babies." Santana walked into the nursery and kissed each of the babies on the head. She stopped for a moment, standing between their cribs, watching them sleep. "You know I'll never leave you, right?" She whispered, rubbing Nico's back and then placing a kiss on the top of Olivia's head.

The light was already out in their room when Santana got there. She brushed her teeth and quickly slipped out of her work clothes into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and crawled in bed with her wife.

"I love you, B," Santana said, kissing her on the nose.

"I love you too, San."

"We're lucky, you know."

"I do," Brittany said, snuggling closer into Santana. Santana wrapped her arms around her wife and they drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Woof. Angsty chapters are hard to write and make me...well...full of angst. Regardless, I had to split this chapter into two because it was just getting _way_ too long, but the second part should be up soon. I hope you enjoy, and, I know I sound like a broken record, but you can't even imagine how much I appreciate all of your reviews, they really make my day :)

* * *

Planning a child's birthday party was one of those odd adult stresses that no one had prepared Quinn for. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her room. She wore a white sundress and her hair fell in soft curls. She looked good, the perfect image of a Beverly Hill's football star's wife. She picked up a pair of Justin's jeans that he'd left on the floor and threw them in the laundry bin and went downstairs. He had been home for three days, and Quinn was beyond overjoyed when she saw him. Justin had arrived home on Thursday, and Rachel had helped her prepare a fancy dinner for his arrival and Lily's birthday, complete with a homemade cake. They had even bought the tools for cake decorating and had managed to scrawl out a messy, "Happy 6th Birthday Lily! And Welcome Home Dad!" It had been nearly impossible to get the kids to sleep that night, but it was worth it for Quinn to hear Lily whisper to her father that she didn't wish for anything when she blew out her candles, because all she wanted was for him to be home, as she nodded off to sleep. Justin had picked her up and carried her all the way to their bedroom, and, for once, Quinn didn't get much sleep for a _good_ reason. Friday was hell though, Quinn got the kids to school and had spent all day making last minute preparations for the party. She was just glad that the day was here, and it would all be over in a few hours.

"Where are the kids, Justin?" She asked, popping her head in the family room where Justin was watching the Dodger's game on TV.

"I put a movie on in the basement. They were getting in the caterers way." He didn't look up from the game."

"You mean they were getting in the way of you and your precious baseball game," Quinn said. Justin finally looked up at her, with the typical "stop nagging me, Quinn," expression. When he caught sight of her, his gaze immediately softened.

"You look great, babe," he said. She couldn't help but be somewhat charmed by the twinkle in his blue eyes. "Sit down with me." He gestured for her to join him on the couch.

"I can't, J, we have 30 kids and 50 adults getting here in thirty minutes…I have to make sure everything is ready."

"Isn't that why you hired the caterers, the clowns, the lifeguards, and all those people wandering around in our backyard?" Quinn just glared at him. "C'mon babe, I just want to spend a little time with my wife." Quinn conceded and snuggled into her husband's side, shutting her eyes. He smelled differently than she remembered, but she still felt comforted being held by his strong arms. Just as she got settled in, there was the sound of metal hitting the floor and yelling. Quinn kissed her husband on the head and walked into the kitchen. Two of the caterers were on the ground, legs tangled together with a tray of potato salad all over the floor, all over the caterers…and all over Lily's skateboard.

"LILY!" Quinn yelled, wondering where her daughter could have scampered off to so quickly. It turns out nowhere. Lily slowly rose from where she was crouched behind the island, in her Finding Nemo swimsuit with scuba goggles on her eyes, a snorkel hanging out of her mouth and her vans sneakers. There wasn't time for scolding though. "Apologize right now, young lady." Lily dropped the snorkel from her mouth.

"Sorry."

"Not to me, Lily, apologize to them."

"Sorry."

"Now go upstairs and get changed."

"But why do I have to get changed? It's a _swim_ party…"

"Ugh, fine Lily, then at least go downstairs and play with your sisters until the guests start to arrive." Lily sulked down into the basement.

"We're so sorry, Mrs. Scott. We just didn't see the skateboard, and when I fell I took her down with me…" said the young caterer, looking a little like she was about to cry.

"Please don't worry about it. This happens more than you'd think. Really." Quinn smiled. "I'll get this cleaned up, why don't you just keep getting everything set up outside. There's like a vat of potato salad, right?" The woman nodded. "Okay, then nothing to worry about, right?" The caterers left and Quinn knelt down and got the potato salad cleaned up. She opened the fridge to check on the cake, it was all set, so she set off to find the candles. They weren't in the "junk" drawer, they weren't with the baking stuff…she wasn't sure where else they would be. She tried to remember what she had done with them after Harper's birthday when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yo, Q, you know that there are two clowns smoking cigarettes in your driveway?"

"Do you know how ridiculous you sound saying 'yo' while pushing a double baby stroller and wearing a fedora?"

"Oh, fuck you, Q. Just because I have a stroller doesn't mean I can't say 'yo'. And can I just tell you how freaked out I am? Clowns acting like adults? It's like a dark glimpse into the secret debaucherous underbelly of the clown community."

"You know how San feels about clowns, Q," Brittany said, taking Olivia out of the stroller. Quinn laughed, remembering the time Brittany had forced them to go to Circus with her their junior year at college. Santana left immediately to the concession stand to get a beer, mumbling something under her breath about clowns. Three beers in, Santana was yelling obscenities at the clowns every time they came to their side of the tent, much to the chagrin of the parents around them. As Santana was starting beer six, one of the clowns she'd been particularly mean to just stopped and looked Santana directly in the eye. She burst out in tears and they weren't able to console her until they were back in the safety of her and Brittany's apartment. It was a bit of an understatement to say that Santana was afraid of clowns.

"Sorry, Santana. I told them they could have a cigarette outside as long as they clean up the butts and they do it before the guests arrive," Santana gestured to herself with the hand that wasn't holding her son. "You don't count as guests." Quinn grinned. "Plus, you're fifteen minutes early." Santana looked down at her watch.

"Fuck, Britt. Since when do we come early to parties?" Brittany just shrugged. "Since when did we become so lame," she cooed to her son. Quinn just rolled her eyes.

"Justin!" Quinn yelled toward the family room. "Brittany and Santana are here!" There was still no response. "You know we have Tivo! You can pause the game!" Just then Justin walked through the door, straightening out his black polo shirt.

"I know, babe! That's what I was doing. You know I've never been good with technology…it just took me a second." He sheepishly smiled at Quinn. He turned his attention to Brittany and Santana who had taken the babies out of their stroller and were now holding them.

"They're so big!" He exclaimed, patting Nico and Olivia on the head. "I can't believe how much they've grown!" Brittany nodded, beaming at her children. "And both of you look wonderful," he said, lightly pecking both women on the cheek. "You look like you're almost ready to start dancing again, Brittany." Brittany nodded.

"I want to get back to work after their birthday," she said, "but it's hard. I can't stand the idea of not being with them all day." She nuzzled her face into Olivia. Justin nodded.

"I miss when we had babies, Quinn. Our babies are all grown up…"he put his arm around his wife's shoulder. Justin was much taller than Quinn, so when she leaned into him her head was barely at his chest. "Let's have another baby!" Quinn pulled away.

"Yeah right," she said, eliciting laughter from Brittany and Santana. Quinn resumed her search for the birthday candles she'd been on when Brittany and Santana showed up. "Let's see you staying home more with the ones you already have," she said under her breath, but, judging from the new quiet in the room, loud enough for everyone to hear. Justin tensed up and his eyes turned flat and dark.

"I'm going to get back to the game," he said. He placed a tentative kiss on Quinn's head. "If you need anything, let me know." Quinn just nodded. Justin's exit left an awkward silence among the three women.

"Do you need help with anything, Q?" Brittany asked.

"I just need to find these _damn_ candles," Quinn said, slamming a drawer shut. Brittany's eyes widened. They hardly ever heard Quinn curse. Quinn looked up at her friends, "I'm sorry, B. I'm just a little stressed out with the prospect of thirty kids being here in fifteen minutes." She smiled weakly at her friends. "Why don't you go outside and take the babies in the bouncy castle for a bit before the rest of the kids arrive? I'll meet you out there in a second." Brittany and Santana nodded and headed out the back door.

* * *

An hour later, the party was in full force. Quinn had retreated to the kitchen to get a break from the small talk and eat her food in peace. She picked at her burger and watched the party through the window of her kitchen. This was one of the secret pleasures Quinn indulged when they had parties at her house. For some reason, she hated the banal conversation and mingling with people she cared nothing about, but for whatever voyeuristic reason, she loved watching them interact from the solitude of her kitchen. There were thirty kids running around, screaming, jumping in the pool, and really giving the teenage lifeguards Quinn had hired for the occasion a run for their money. Justin was standing by the pool drinking a beer and having what seemed to be a very animated conversation with Mike, Finn, Puck and some of the dads of Lily's friends. He was probably talking about football. Puck and Mike were doubled over laughing, and Justin was sporting the charming half-grin he got when he was pleased with himself. Lily was holding tightly on to his leg, trying to get his attention, still wearing her scuba goggles. Mercedes and her husband were talking to Brittany and cooing over Olivia. Santana was off in a far part of the yard, trying to calm a screaming Nico down. Apparently, he had taken after her when it came to clowns. Harper was among a group of kids laughing as one of the clowns squirted water at them from a fake flower and the other one walked on a slack line hung in her yard. Kurt and his boyfriend were talking to a group of gay dads from Lily's class. Maybe he was actually getting serious about someone, Quinn thought. On the other side of the yard, Justin noticed his daughter and picked her up. She wondered what they were talking about. He put her down and started tickling her, and then her other two girls ran over and a tickle war began, with the girls climbing all over her husband. Quinn smiled to herself. She was broken out of her thoughts by the door sliding open and the sound of a screaming baby filling the room.

"Shh, shh, little man, what can mama do for you, please tell me? I'll do anything…"Santana cooed as she rocked the baby back and forth, and not noticing Quinn standing by the window.

"Like mother, like son," Quinn said, chuckling. Santana literally jumped.

"Oh! Quinn! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here. I'm sorry, I can take him upstairs, I just can't seem to calm him down."

"Maybe we can sing him something?"

"Oh lord, you have been spending too much time with Berry," Santana said. Quinn rolled her eyes and began to sing.

_Go to sleep little baby_

_ Go to sleep little baby_, Quinn looked at Santana hoping she would join in.

_Honey and the rock and the sugar don't stop_

_ Gonna bring a bottle to the baby._

Three verses of Quinn and Santana singing and Nico was fast asleep in his mother's arms.

"So why are you hiding out here, Q?" Santana asked.

"Oh, you know…." Quinn shrugged.

"No, I don't know, that's why I asked," Santana said, rocking Nico gently back and forth.

"How very…Brittany of you, Santana." It was Santana's turn to roll her eyes. They just stood there in silence, watching the party going on outside. "I just got tired of small talk. I'm tired of the parents of Lily's friends, and the parents of Hannah's friends. I'm tired of listening to Justin talk about football. Wait until your kids go to school…it's unbelievable how much time you have to spend talking to other parents whom you have nothing in common with, other than the fact that you chose to have children around the same time. And these shoes _really_ hurt my feet. " Santana laughed, looking out the window while Quinn returned to her lunch.

"I didn't know Rachel had a boyfriend," Santana said, breaking the silence.

"What are you talking about? Rachel doesn't haven't a boyfriend," Quinn said, looking over at Santana, confused.

"Oh, well she just walked in with some guy…" Santana said. Quinn scanned the party. Sure enough, there was Rachel, an hour late, with some guy. They had stopped and appeared to be talking to Brittany, Mercedes, and Mercedes' husband. Quinn couldn't help but notice that their fingers were interlaced.

"Oh…well she never said anything to me about it. Let's go say hi." Quinn said, dryly.

"I thought we were hiding?"

"I'm done hiding. We can hide when we're dead." Santana raised an eyebrow at Quinn's statement but followed her outside, nonetheless. Quinn dumped her lunch in a trashcan as they approached the group, talking by the bouncy castle.

"And this, Eric, is Quinn, the mother of the lovely young birthday girl, Lily, who you already had the pleasure of meeting," Rachel said, dramatically gesturing to Quinn and then the large mustard stain on Eric's shirt. "And this is Santana, Ms. Brittany's other-half, and their son Nico, who may be the most peaceful baby in the world." Santana scoffed.

"You say this now. He's five minutes into a nap after a 45 minute screaming session." _Clowns _mouthed Brittany to Rachel.

"How'd you finally get him to calm down, San?"

"We sang to him," Quinn said.

"Like I always say, singing heals all," Rachel flashed a large stage smile at Quinn. "This is Eric. We are working together on Spring Awakening." Eric shook both women's hands.

"You have a lovely home, Quinn."

"Thank you. I'm glad you both could make it. A little late, but I guess a little late is better than never, right?" No one responded. "I have to go make sure everything is ready for cake. It was lovely meeting you, Eric. And thank you for gracing us with your presence, Rachel." Quinn rushed back inside. Santana looked over at Brittany, and in that inexplicable way they had been doing since High School, they seemed to have an entire conversation just with their eyes in a matter of moments. Brittany handed Olivia to Santana, and Santana nodded as Brittany followed Quinn back into the house.

"So!" Santana said, trying to break the awkward silence that followed Quinn's departure while shuffling the two babies she now had on her hips, "how is production going?"

* * *

"Q! Quinn!" Brittany yelled, as she walked into the house. She heard what sounded like doors opening and shutting upstairs so she tentatively climbed the stairs to the second floor. Quinn was frantically going through the linen cabinet. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the candles!" Quinn said, finally. "I can't find them anywhere, and I need candles…I just need six candles. It's my baby-girl's birthday, and I can't even find the candles for her cake," Quinn said. Brittany's heart broke at hearing her friend sound so broken. She carefully approached her, and rested her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"I can go down to the store and buy some candles, Q." Quinn nodded. Brittany gently petted her hair. "Is there anything else you need?" Quinn shook her head. Brittany walked toward the stairs.

"Hey, B?" Brittany turned around. Quinn was standing in her perfect dress, not a single hair on her head out of place. She hadn't cried, and her makeup stayed perfectly in place. The only thing that gave Quinn away were her eyes. Her distinctive, hazel, gray, green, blue eyes that usually embodied so much power and so much seduction looked empty. They showed something Brittany hadn't seen in Quinn since she was pregnant in High School. Brittany couldn't find the word to describe it. They were dull and empty, and they made Brittany feel a sense of longing, like Quinn's eyes were vacant because they were searching for something, or, perhaps, they were vacant because Quinn didn't believe that there was anything worth searching for anymore. Or maybe she was thinking too much into it. Maybe Quinn just really needed candles. Whatever it was, Brittany couldn't put her finger on it. After what felt like forever, Quinn finally spoke.

"When did life get to be so hard?" She asked Brittany, barely audible. It was clear that Brittany was thinking seriously about it; her brow furrowed and she bit on her bottom lip.

"Maybe it's one of those things that adults never tell you about. Like making bill payments on time. And collection agencies. Health insurance and life insurance and car insurance. Episiotomies." Quinn winced at this one, resulting in a sympathetic smile from Brittany. "Understanding legal documents, and finding lawyers and pediatricians and Ob-Gyns, and security deposits, and down payments. And planning a child's birthday party. And with all these extra stresses, still not knowing what your heart wants anymore than we did when we were young and all we had to worry about were our hearts."

"I wish they had prepared me," Quinn said quietly.

"Nah," Brittany said, "half the fun is finding out that life is hard all for yourself." She gave Quinn a half-smile. "And really hoping that one day you'll figure out what your heart wants _and _be able to keep up with those bill payments, insurance plans, and doctors' appointments. And maybe, one day…handle episiotomies." Quinn grimaced.

"Did you find it, B?" Quinn asked. Brittany paused to think for a moment, a small smile on the corners of her mouth.

"I think so…but who knows, Q. Like you said, life is hard, and no one prepares you for it." Brittany turned to go get the candles.

"Hey, B?" Brittany turned again.

"Thank you," Brittany nodded and then took the stairs two at a time to go get Quinn those candles.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading. If anyone is wondering, the song they sing to Nico is "Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby"!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** As always, I love love love you all for reading and for the wonderful reviews everyone has been giving me. It means so much! I hope you enjoy the second half of the birthday party!

* * *

Santana carefully placed her keys in the duck bowl at the entrance of their house, holding Nico tightly to her body. She tiptoed toward her bedroom with Brittany following closely behind her holding Olivia. They didn't speak as they placed the babies in the crib, giving each a kiss on the forehead. Santana turned on the rain machine, double-checked the baby monitors, and then they tiptoed down the hall and into the living room.

"You remind me of a spy when you whisper into the baby monitors, San," Brittany giggled. Brittany collapsed on the couch, and Santana stood in front of the TV, pacing back and forth. She finally stopped.

"That was a shit show." Brittany just nodded. "I need a drink." Brittany nodded again.

"Santana, do you remember what the doctor said?" Santana looked at her quizzically. "After two months, it's okay to have a drink or two as long as you don't feed the babies while you're drinking." Santana raised an eyebrow at her wife. Brittany pouted. "They're 11 months old, San. I haven't had a drink in 20 months, Santana! 20 months! We still have that wine that Rach brought us, and I could pump now in case the babies need to feed in the next 5 hours…"

"You had me at 'Santana'," Santana grinned. "You go do what you need to do, B, and I can one-up Rachel's wine." Santana winked at her wife. Twenty minutes later they were dancing in their living room, each with a glass of champagne in hand.

"I love drinking," Brittany said, moving her shoulders to the music.

"Drinking is fun," said Santana, bobbing back and forth, but mostly watching her wife dance.

"I love you," Brittany said, pulling Santana closer to her so that their bodies moved in together in rhythm.

"I'm pretty fun," said Santana, giving her wife a quick kiss on the lips.

"Today was terrible," Brittany said, putting her glass down so she could really get her dance on.

"Tell me about it," Santana said, just shaking her head.

* * *

**Earlier that Day**

The sun had set, and most of the kids from the party had gone home, with the exception of the two classmates Lily was having sleepover and one of Hannah's friends who was going to sleepover. Santana was sitting in a rocking bench with Quinn.

"Look at them," she gestured over to Lily and her friends, playing with the newly opened birthday gifts, "rollin in all that swag. It'd be nice to be a kid again, huh, Q?" Quinn just nodded, her eyes glassy, holding tightly to the neck of her beer. "How's it having Justin back?" Santana said, again attempting to make conversation, yet again. Quinn looked around the yard.

"It's kind of like when he wasn't…back…" Quinn stumbled a little over her words. She stood up abruptly, clapping her hands together once.

"Okay, ladies," she said walking over to where the kids were playing, "and gentleman," she said ruffling Tommy's hair. Santana scowled slightly. She was going to _kill_ that kid. "It's nearly eight, your pizza should be here any minute, so why don't we head into the basement and pick out a movie!" Quinn ushered the kids inside. As they reached the door, Lily ran back outside and grabbed Rachel in a tight hug and whispered something to her. Rachel kissed her on the head and Lily ran back inside the house. Santana wondered what Lily had said. She walked over to where Brittany was talking to Mercedes, Rachel, and Eric. Brittany looked confused.

"Why are you wearing your sunglasses?" Brittany asked Eric as Santana took Olivia from her.

"It's because of the paparazzi. The flashes really hurt your eyes, but wearing dark glasses tends to help a bit," he explained.

"But…we're in Quinn's house. I don't think there will be any paparazzi…" Santana looked over at her wife…she was right, but they had to at least try and be nice to this guy.

"So, Eric," Santana started, desperately racking her brain for some point to steer the conversation away from the annoying fact that he was _still _wearing his sunglasses. He was an actor…she worked with actors all the time. What did actors like to talk about? "What films have you been in before _Spring Awakening?_" If Santana could see his eyes, she'd be sure that they would be lighting up. Clearly…actor's liked to talk about _themselves._ She didn't need her current job to know that…she'd been "friends" with Rachel Berry for 15 years.

"My last film was _Double Indemnity: Full Throttle,_ and before that I was working on a period piece, _Flannel in the Wasteland_ about the 1990's…" he seemed a little disappointed about the vacant stares of the group. "I also did _Gotta Have A Gimmick_, that film about burlesque performers…" Santana nodded.

"I represented the screenwriter. That was a fun shoot to be on…" Brittany rolled her eyes. Quinn approached the group.

"Your services have been requested after the movie, Santana," Quinn said, placing a hand on Santana's shoulder. Santana raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, a game of vampire pirates is not complete with Master Vampirate Santana," Quinn said, smirking.

"I may be able to fit it into my schedule," Santana laughed.

"You better, if Aunt S doesn't pull through on Lily's birthday, who knows what she'll do the next time you babysit…"

"Who said there was going to be a next time, Q?" Both women laughed.

"So what were you all talking about before I rudely interrupted with my, I'm sure, very boring story about my children?"

"Well," Rachel said, her arm hooked into Eric's elbow, "Eric was just telling us some of the productions he's worked on prior to _Spring Awakening._" Quinn took a sip of beer.

"Well, that certainly sounds fascinating. You know, there are two things I never get sick of talking about: football and the productions people are working on. I know that sounds strange. My husband is a football player, so obviously you'd think I would get sick of football, and James, here," Quinn said, gesturing to Mercedes' husband who was currently talking to Justin, "is, what is it again, Mercedes?" Quinn fake questioned her, "an Emmy, Tony, Golden Globe and SAG award winner? He just has what, two Academy Award nominations under his belt?" Mercedes nodded, but didn't smile, she just stared at Quinn, and then Santana. "And Santana is an entertainment lawyer, and Brittany is one of the most sought after dancers in LA, especially for shoots, and Mercedes' is a Grammy award winning singer, and Rachel here, the lovely Rachel, has won two Tony's. So, no, I never get sick of talking about productions." Quinn looked at her beer. There was only foam at the bottom. "I'm going to go get another drink." Quinn went back inside the house.

"Okay," said Mercedes, "I'm going to address the elephant in this barbeque. _What _is going on with Quinn?" Brittany shuffled her feet, wondering whether or not she could talk about her friend in front of this stranger.

"She always gets stressed out planning these parties. You know that, Mercedes." Mercedes nodded. "Plus, Justin has been home for a record month, in total, so far this year. I think Q is just stressed about having him back." Brittany's explanation was cut short by Justin approaching the group.

"Have any of you seen my lovely wife?" He asked.

"I think she's inside, getting another beer," Eric said. Justin nodded.

"So, Rachel, how is shooting going?" He asked Rachel.

"It's fine, Justin. How is throwing a football going?" Luckily, Quinn showed up with her beer before Justin could answer. She leaned her head into her husband's chest and he wrapped his arm around her.

"It's great actually. You know, the Eagles won the Superbowl this year."

"I didn't know that, actually. How wonderful." The rest of the group stood in silence. "Are you an Eagle, Justin?"

"Yes, Rachel. I've been playing for the Eagles, I believe, since we first met."

"Funny how I didn't remember."

"So…" Justin said, clearly not enjoying his "conversation" with Rachel. He turned to Eric. "You were in that movie with Puck, right? What was it called?"

"Who is Puck?" Eric asked.

"Noah Puckerman. You were in some remake action movie with him…"

"Oh yeah, I had a bit part in _The Big Sleep: Red Bull Edition._"

"Well, you were good, man."

"So…you all went to High School together?" Eric asked. Everyone nodded their heads.

"We were all in the glee club together," Rachel added.

"That's a pretty impressive resume for a High School class. Was it an arts school or something?"

"No," Brittany said, "just your run of the mill public high school in a small town in Ohio."

"I guess we got pretty lucky," Santana's forehead scrunched, thinking about it, "that we all have made it pretty big…"

"Yeah," Eric said, "between the group of you and your spouses you are practically controlling the entertainment industry." Santana smirked.

"Santana, I think it's time you played with the girls," Quinn interrupted. "You're going to have to get your little ones to sleep soon right?" Santana just shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, let's go in, I'm going to start cleaning up in the kitchen." Quinn grabbed Santana's hand and led her into the house.

"Q," Santana said, the minute the door was closed, "what's going on with you?" Quinn didn't respond. "Okay, I know I'm not the one people usually go to with their problems, or whatever, but you seem really upset."

"I'm fine," Quinn said, stacking a pile of paper plates to throw away. "Just a little stressed out. The best thing you could do for me is play with my kids." Santana nodded and headed into the basement. Meanwhile, Quinn continued to collect the trash. That is, until Rachel stormed through the door.

"What is with you tonight?" Rachel asked Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn said, continuing to stuff paper plates and cups into the trash.

"Well, you've barely spoken to me, for one. And when you do talk to me, you only have something sarcastic to say. And you won't even speak to Eric. You'd think the one time I actually have a date you'd be happy for me and want to get to know him."

"It's not like you're all buddy-buddy with my husband," Quinn shot back.

"Quinn. I already know your husband. I've known your husband for years. What do you expect me to be like after taking care of you all month being miserable on account of him?"

"Oh, well I'm _very _sorry, Rachel. It must be hard having to take care of pathetic little me all the time instead of running off and living your glamorous, movie-star life, and going on dates with your hunky costars who wear their _sunglasses _at night at a child's birthday party!" Rachel started laughing, and Quinn couldn't help but smile a little.

"Yeah…he's kind of a…jerk. Or what is it Santana says?"

"A tool." Quinn said quickly. Rachel laughed. She put her hand lightly on Quinn's forearm.

"Seriously, though. Did I do something to upset you?" Quinn shook her head. She took a long swig out of her beer. "Well you're obviously upset. You've had like 5 beers, which I know that _you _know will go straight to your stomach, and even Santana's obsession with the plank won't get rid of a beer belly. And you can't deny the fact that you're not talking to me." Quinn turned to face the kitchen sink, leaning her arms on the countertop and looked out the window at the party that was still going on outside. Rachel, leaned with her back against the counter next to Quinn so that their shoulders were touching. She nudged her side. "I felt as though we were becoming actual friends, Quinn. It was nice to have someone to, you know, spend time with, or even just…talk to when I come home from work. I would just like to know what I did, so that there's the possibility that I can fix this."

"You didn't do anything Rachel," Quinn said, looking over her shoulder to see Rachel and finding that Rachel was looking over her shoulder to look at her. It was an odd position to be in, Quinn thought. Unnerving. She turned her head back up to face the window. "It's just you were late, and the girls were looking forward to seeing you, you know, you've been around so much lately, and then when you did show up it was with that guy, and then all these crazy thoughts went through my head about what it meant that you were seeing someone and didn't tell me, and what you had prioritized over us that made you an hour late, which I know is crazy, of course you should prioritize a boyfriend over me and my family. I don't know…"Quinn stopped, and looked down again at Rachel. Rachel was smiling softly. "What?" Quinn asked.

"Nothing, it's just…" she paused. "You're rambling. Is that what I sound like?" Quinn laughed. "Eric's car broke down about four blocks from my apartment," Rachel began. "I made him leave it, so that we could walk back to my apartment to get _my _car, because I didn't want to be late. I let him drive, because he is a faster driver than I am—"

"Everyone's a faster driver than you are, Rach," Quinn smirked at her. Rachel glared.

"Anyway, I let him drive, and he had the genius idea that we should take Franklin all the way down instead of going south first, so, of course, we got stuck in Hollywood Bowl traffic. We finally make it to Santa Monica, which was relatively open, and I get a flat. I, in my infinite wisdom, failed to replace the spare tire in my car after the last time I got a flat, so we had to wait for AAA to arrive, fix my tire, and that's why we were late. Which you would have heard all about had you been talking to me." Quinn rolled her eyes. "And he's not my boyfriend, he's someone I work with, who I invited to come with me because it's terrible going to these things on your own. You've been married for like 8 years, Quinn, and you've been with Justin for 12. You don't know what it's like. There's always that point at parties where you find yourself standing awkwardly alone, sending fake text messages and reading fake emails so you're not just standing there, watching everyone else having intimate conversations with their significant others. Almost everyone we know is married, Quinn. And with Justin back, I didn't want to be stuck standing around your house by myself. Because you're right, I have spent a lot of time here lately, and I have loved spending all this time with you and your girls…in a way it has kind of become like a second home to me," it was Rachel's turn to look at the ground. "I didn't want to feel out of place somewhere that has kind of become my home," Rachel mumbled.

"Why were you holding his hand?" Quinn asked softly.

"I don't know." Rachel said, turning to look at Quinn who was staring at her hands, clenching the edge of the sink. "I was leading him around the party. It's natural that you end up holding someone's hand. Plus…I may have had a little bit to drink when we first walked in," Rachel turned red. Quinn raised an eyebrow at her. "I was nervous!" Rachel defended herself, making eye contact with Quinn for the first time since they began this conversation. "I may have chugged a beer when we first walked in the door…"

"Rachel. Berry. I didn't know you even knew the word 'chug'."

"Hey, I went to college too, Quinn." Quinn smiled.

"I'm sorry for being an ass," Quinn said, looking over her shoulder at Rachel again. Rachel turned to look at Quinn, they had been standing close when they were side to side, so it didn't occur to Rachel how close they would be if she turned to face her. She felt a little awkward, her chest grazed lightly against Quinn's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for bringing some random guy to your daughter's birthday party," Rachel said. She put her arm around Quinn's back and stood on her tiptoes as they hugged. Quinn buried her head into Rachel's hair. Just then, Santana opened the door to the basement.

"What happened to you, San?" Quinn asked, pulling out of the hug.

"I don't want to talk about it." Santana said, putting her, now crushed, fedora on her head and holding her hand up at the two women. She opened the sliding door. "B! Time to go! Get the kids, I'll get the stroller ready!" She turned to walk through the kitchen towards the office where the stroller was and came back in moments later, the stroller unfolded and Brittany juggling the babies on each of their hips. Both babies were asleep, so they didn't bother putting them in the stroller, Santana just took Olivia from Brittany.

"San, what happened?" Brittany asked as she handed her their daughter.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"And, Q, why are you so red?" Quinn turned even redder.

"I don't know…it's been happening to me a lot when I drink. I must be getting an allergy or something…"

"Okay, well give us a call tomorrow if you need anything? Or Monday after Justin leaves?" Brittany said from the door to Quinn's house.

"Of course," Quinn said.

* * *

**Back at Brittany and Santana's**

"I'm so sorry, baby," Brittany said, holding a pack of frozen peas to Santana's left eye.

"It's okay, B. It happens. Obviously." Santana replied, gently kissing the inside of her wife's wrist. "The right one hurts more now, B." Brittany moved the frozen peas over to Santana's other eye.

"I just feel so bad…first Vampirate, and now this…I just get a little enthusiastic in my dancing sometimes…"

"B…I completely understand. Please don't apologize. Dancing plus champagne after our painfully sober last few months, who could expect anything else? Plus, it's still early after the injury, we don't really know that _both_ eyes are going to turn black…"

"No…both eyes are already black, San," Brittany said, switching her frozen peas back from the right eye she had injured to the left eye Lily had injured earlier.

"Well, I guess my work is used to seeing me enough with black eyes by this point, they probably won't think anything of it."

"I like that positive thinking, San." Brittany beamed at her.

"It's only because your shirt ripped when you accidentally hit me, and your boobs have been hanging out for the last, like, thirty minutes." Brittany looked down. Santana was right.

"Ugh, San, why didn't you tell me?"  
"I have two black eyes, Brit! Let me at least enjoy something tonight!" Brittany leaned over to Santana and they kissed, and then Brittany pulled her off the couch and into bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Hello again, lovely people! My disappointment in the Steeler's loss tonight was hardly quelled by the return of Glee since it contained so little of my beloved Brittana...so I thought I'd give you some Faberry. I hope you all enjoy, and, as always, thanks a million times for reviewing, reviews are kind of becoming my life source.

* * *

Rachel settled into her couch with some tea and put _Funny Lady _in her DVD player. She'd seen it a million times, so she found her attention drifting in and out of the movie. Quinn had been crazy tonight. Not that Quinn hadn't clearly shown herself to be a little unstable lately, but tonight really took the cake. Rachel understood that Quinn was depressed, heck, Rachel had been the one taking care of Quinn's depressed mess for the better part of a month now, but she didn't understand why Quinn would take it out on her. Maybe it just had to do with being enemies turned occasional friends. She remembered in high school, during those rare times when she and Quinn shared a moment of kindness, it always felt as though the earth might have just turned on its axis and something was bound to explode in any moment. Rachel laughed at herself, maybe she was being a little dramatic. Still, though, even as adults, there was definitely a level of tension in the air whenever she spent time with Quinn. Maybe, subconsciously Rachel was scared that Quinn would snap and show up with a slushie one day, and maybe Quinn was scared that…well Rachel didn't know what Quinn was scared of.

* * *

Quinn's head was spinning. Not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely spinning. She was allowed to get drunk, she decided. Her two best friends in the world were getting married, and she'd been good and sober for nineteen months while she was pregnant and breast feeding her youngest child. She was _more_ than allowed to be drunk. She'd been pregnant _three_ times and she was 25, and she was tired of spending months at a time being left out of the fun. Her husband could take care of the children for once. Yup, she was definitely allowed to be drunk. It wasn't her fault she was so damn fertile. Puck looked at her questioningly, a little bit like he regretted taking that last shot with her. Well, _forget_ Puck. He was the one that got her pregnant the first time. She was _definitely_ allowed to be drunk around him. She surveyed the room. Emma and Will were dancing with their little brood of gingers around them. She didn't want to interrupt their marital bliss. Her husband was talking to Finn and Mike, probably about football, and she really didn't think it was possible for her to get anymore bored of talking about football. Brittany and Santana were sitting at the wedding party table, making out. She wished she could interrupt them, but it was their wedding, and for once, it was appropriate for them to be making out in public. They both really looked beautiful. She watched them for a moment, but started to feel like she was getting a little creepy, standing in the corner, watching her two best friends make out. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Rachel, standing awkwardly close to the dance floor in Brittany's yellow bridesmaid dresses. She was bobbing back and forth, looking as though she was trying to dance, but not really knowing if she should do it by herself.

"Hey, girl, what are you looking at?" Mercedes said, coming up to Quinn and knocking her out of her thoughts.

"Nothing," Quinn said, her speech slightly slurred. "Do you want to take a shot with me?"

"Girl, I think you've had enough," Mercedes laughed.

"Oh, come on! It's a wedding, we're allowed to be drunk!" Mercedes didn't look like she was going to budge. "For old times sake, then?"

"I guess," Mercedes laughed.

Quinn felt good, it was like that shot had cleared her head. She walked over to the table where Finn, Mike, and Justin were deep in conversation.

"I want to dance." She said, tapping Justin on the shoulder. He looked up at her, cut off mid-sentence from whatever he had been saying.

"Babe, I'm in the middle of a conversation." He turned back to Finn and Mike.

"Please?" Quinn pouted. She wasn't really a pouter, but it always worked when Brittany did it to Santana so she figured she might as well give it a try.

"Why don't you sit down, babe. I think you may have had enough—" Quinn put up her hand, silencing him before he could continue his sentence, she knew where it was going. "Fine," he said, turning back to face Finn and Mike. "Why don't you dance by yourself. Besides, someone has to watch the kids." Quinn couldn't believe he was saying this. He, who was only home 2 months of they year while she stayed home watching their two children was calling _her_ the irresponsible parent. She knew she couldn't say anything though, it was Brittany and Santana's wedding, she couldn't ruin it with her own drama. She walked over to the dance floor and stood next to Rachel.

"Hey Rachel."

"Hello there, Quinn."

"It's too bad this is a gay wedding." Rachel looked at Quinn incredulously.

"I'm sorry, Quinn, but I'm going to stop you right there. I would have thought that you moved past your issues with homophobia ages ago and I am dismayed to see that I was wrong. I am appalled that you have the gall to bring this up on the happiest day of Brittany and Santana's life after all that you three have gone through together. And then to bring it up to _me _of all people. You are aware by now, I'm sure, that I have two gay dads—"

"Woah, woah, Berry calm down," Rachel winced a little at being called by her last name, a detail that didn't escape Quinn's attention. "Sorry, it's just when you revert back into High School Rachel the nickname slips out…" Quinn looked down at her feet, feeling a little ashamed of herself. "Plus, I'm a little bit drunk, if you hadn't noticed." Rachel nodded at her, and a small, bemused smile started to cross her lips. "You misunderstood me," Quinn said, speaking softly. "I believe it's tradition for ushers to get drunk and dance with bridesmaids during the wedding reception, but since this is a gay wedding, your only dance partner options are Puck, me, Sasha, and Theresa. And Theresa is married and I believe Puck is busy with Santana's aunt…" Rachel raised her eyebrow as she turned and saw that Puck, was in fact hitting on Santana's aunt. "And it seemed like you wanted to dance…"

"To be honest, I prefer _not _having the drunk friends of my friend's husbands sweating all over me and stepping on my feet. Besides, isn't Sasha gay? Maybe I could dance with her, at least she's attracted to women…"

"I was thinking maybe we could dance?" Quinn wasn't sure why she was getting so bashful about this. Maybe she _shouldn't _have had that lost shot after all. Her throat had suddenly become very dry and she felt her face grow hot.

"Where's Justin?"

"Talking about football," she gestured over to the table where her husband was still talking and laughing.

"Well, we have danced together on numerous occasions during our years in New Directions, so I don't see how it could hurt. I have _really_ been wanting to dance." Quinn grabbed her hand and led her out on the dance floor. They danced an appropriate distance apart; the distance apart that friends dance when their hands occasionally graze, but nothing beyond that. The music was great-obviously, it was Brittany and Santana's wedding, there _had _to be good dance music. Even though the two of them weren't getting much use out of it. The music went silent for a moment, and everyone just stood awkwardly on the stage. Rachel pouted a little and Quinn couldn't help but laugh. The intro to _Unchained Melody_ suddenly cut into the silence. Rachel stopped pouting, but her expression became unsure. Her eyes briefly made contact with Quinn's but she closed them quickly and lightly swayed back and forth to the song. Quinn could just barely hear her singing along under her breath. Quinn lightly grabbed Rachel's hand, causing Rachel's eyes to snap open. Quinn opened her mouth to suggest that they could still dance to this song, it was a gay wedding, after all, no one would judge them, just as one of Santana's cousins tapped Rachel on the shoulder, asking her to dance. For a split second, Quinn could swear that Rachel looked questioningly at her, but the looked vanished nearly as quickly as it appeared and Rachel accepted the dance. Quinn left the dance floor and sat back in her seat at the head table, which _Unchained Melody _had effectively cleared. Rachel was making what appeared to be awkward small talk with Santana's cousin. Brittany and Santana held each other tightly, barely swaying back and forth to the music, just staring into each other's eyes and occasionally kissing. At the crescendo, Santana flipped her head back and sang, "I, I neeeeeed your love," perfectly hitting Bobby Hatfield's distinctive falsetto. Brittany also tilted her head back and let out a long laugh, along with the other people on the dance floor. Quinn looked over at her husband. He hadn't noticed the song, and was laughing with his hand on Mike's shoulder. She got up and took a seat at the bar.

Quinn wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was sitting at the table again, alone, playing with the petal flowers scattered on the table. The room had thinned out, after Brittany and Santana had left to start their honeymoon early, the rest of the guests had slowly been making their way home.

"Hey Quinn."

"Hey Rachel," she softly smiled at her.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm off for the night. I have an early flight back to New York in the morning. Quinn nodded, clumsily standing up and pulling Rachel into a tight hug. Rachel's mouth opened in surprise, but she returned the hug anyway. Rachel turned and began to walk away.

"Hey Rach," Quinn called out, as she sat back down at the empty table. Rachel turned to look at Quinn. Quinn wasn't really sure why she called back to her. "Next time you're in LA, give me a call." Rachel just nodded, a little confused and left the room.

It was one in the morning by the time Quinn and Justin got home and got the kids to bed.

"You coming up?" Justin called from the stairs.

"In a few minutes." Quinn said. She sat down on the couch and pulled out her camera, looking back at pictures of the day. She was already starting to feel sick from all the alcohol she drank. She had to laugh out loud of a close up picture of her and Santana; they both still had rollers in their hair and Quinn was kissing Santana's cheek while Santana rolled her eyes. Most of the pictures were of Brittany and Santana, though, who were completely oblivious to the fact that they were having their picture taken; they were just staring at each other in every single one. She paused on one of them dancing, their foreheads pressed together, eyes shut. She zoomed in on the picture. Rachel was in the background in her yellow bridesmaid dress, staring at the couple. She looked sad, Quinn thought, sad and she actually looked beautiful in the yellow bridesmaid gowns that Brittany had picked out. Quinn looked up at the big black and white photos of her and Justin's wedding hanging up in their living room. Quinn was three months pregnant with Hannah when those pictures were taken, although you'd only be able to tell if you knew. There was a very similar one to the one of Brittany and Santana, with Quinn and Justin's foreheads pressed together as they danced. Quinn's eyes were open in the photograph, and she was looking at the ground. She looked back at the picture of Brittany and Santana. She wondered if she and Justin had ever been that happy. She wrapped a throw around her and curled up on the couch, feeling the nausea and the alcohol and her emotions all hit her at once like a wave. She began sobbing into her pillow, in a way she hadn't sobbed since she was 16 and found out she was pregnant, and then when she was 22 and found out she was pregnant again. She sobbed the way Quinn only sobbed when she was scared. Only now she was scared that life had hit her so fast. She was scared that she was 25 and already had two children and a husband, and had no idea what she was doing. Most of all, looking at those pictures of Brittany and Santana's wedding, Quinn was scared that she had again made a mistake. She cried until she fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know the last couple of chapters have been a bit, well, angsty, but between no Brittana and the Steeler's losing, what can you expect? The next couple will be a bit more lighthearted! Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for continuing to read and review! Also, be warned, there's a lot of cursing in this chapter, not sure why, it just turned out that way...

* * *

Santana woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing on her bedside table. She groaned and put the pillow over her head, trying to ignore it, but Brittany kicked her in the leg.

"Make it stop, San," Brittany said, her voice raspy. Santana reached over and tried to silence it, but couldn't figure out the buttons on her new phone. She sighed with relief when the phone stopped ringing and rolled over so she was curled around Brittany, her head buried in Brittany's hair and her arm wrapped over her. Then it started again. Santana growled and rolled over again, this time she was at least cognizant enough to see who was calling. Noah Fucking Puckerman. There was no way she was taking his call at 5:30 in the morning. She silenced her phone, and then curled back into Brittany. She started to drift back into sleep, when on the other side of the bed Brittany's phone began to ring. Brittany sleepily reached around the bed table for it, before lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Santana covered her head with the pillow again, but Brittany was kicking her. "It's Noah Fucking Puckerman, he wants to talk to you." Brittany said, waving the phone behind her head to her wife. Santana grabbed it, but didn't even take her head off the pillow.

"Why the fuck are you calling my house at like five, Puck? Don't you know I have infants?"

"That's why I'm calling now! You always yell at me when I call on my way to work in the morning because it breaks your precious morning routine. And if I call you at work, your assistant always tells me she'll pass along the message, and if I call you at night I'm either interrupting dinner, cockblocking, or waking you up and, like you said, you have infants." He imitated Santana's voice.

"I only listened to about 30% of what you just said. What do you want?"

"Well, I believe _someone_ promised me that the first time she would drink was with the Puckasaurus at Jumbo's Clown Room, and that _someone_ may have broken that promise."

"What are you talking about, Puck?" Santana asked, getting angrier by the second that Puck had woken her up to talk about Jumbo's Clown Room.

"I was helping one of the makeup artists bring some boxes to her car," Santana rolled her eyes, "and who do I run into, but one, Rachel Berry. We start talking, and she's telling me this story that I really wasn't paying attention to…"he trailed off momentarily, as though he was _actually_ trying to remember Rachel's story, "something about that gay-ass games night you girls have been having lately…anyways, I tune back in when she says that _you_ were _drunk_. I can't believe you got drunk with Rachel before me! And apparently you've been drinking since Quinn's brat's birthday party which was a _month _ago and didn't say anything?"

"Don't use 'gay' pejoratively."

"Don't use big words to try and change the subject!"

"What do you want, Puck? You want me to go to Jumbo's with you? Fine, it's Friday, I don't have work tomorrow, I'll see you here at 10, okay? I'm going to go the _fuck_ back to sleep, before my _children_ wake me up in half a _fucking_ hour, Puckerman! Are you happy now?"

"You know it." She could just picture his self-satisfied grin and it made her want to punch him through the phone more than she already did.

"Fuck you, Puck." She slammed the phone shut and rolled over, nestled back into Brittany. She could feel herself drifting back into sleep.

"Mama. Mama. Bah. Ma." The sound of babbling and giggling came over the baby monitors. Brittany just groaned. Santana sat up, holding her head in her hands.

"I'll go get the milk ready. Meet you in the kitchen in 5?" Brittany nodded, stretching and throwing on a shirt as Santana headed for the door.

"By the way, when did you change Puck's name in my phone?" Santana just smirked, ready to start what was shaping up to be a very long day.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, on the other side of town, Quinn woke to the sound of her phone buzzing next to her. She smiled when she saw the name.

"Hey, Rach! What's up?"

"Hello, Quinn! I was just calling to let you know that Eric came down with a terrible case of tonsillitis and filming is on hold until further notice! I was thinking that we could have another girls day…you know, the works…breakfast with cocktails, mani-pedis, the Grove…assuming Lily doesn't get in another fight at school…" Quinn's husband lightly shoved her in bed, mouthing 'who are you talking to?' Quinn just held up one finger, trying to get him to hold on a second.

"I would love to, Rach, especially since our last girls' day was cut short by Lily's antics, but Justin surprised us late last night so I think I'm going to have to postpone…"

"Oh!" Rachel said quickly. "No worries! Tell Justin hello for me! Have fun!" Rachel hung up the phone before Quinn could say anything else. She laid back down in her bed. Her phone buzzed next to her.

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_Really, really sorry Rach,_

_you know how_ _much I like_

_girls days. Make it up to you?_

_Dinner at mine Mon. I'll order_

_vegan takeout, you can pick the_

_movie?_

_Sent, Friday, July 9, 6:30am_

Rachel quickly plunked out a message to Quinn.

_Rachel Berry:_

_Sure. Have fun with Justin._

_Sent: Friday, July 9, 6:32 am_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_Are you mad? That sounded like a mad text…_

_Sent: Friday, July 9, 6:40am_

_Rachel Berry:_

_No. Spend time with your husband._

_A little disappointed is all, I guess._

_Plus, a text can't sound like anything:)_

_Sent: Friday, July 9, 6:45am_

Quinn rolled out of bed, stretching her arms over her head.

"Babe, why are you getting up so early?" Justin said, leaning up on his elbows. "And who were you talking to at this ungodly hour?"

"I'm getting up because this is the time you _have _to get up when you have three children that need to get to school. And it was Rachel, she has the day off and wanted to hang out."

"Ugh, he said, laying back into his pillow. All I ever hear about is 'Rachel this, and Rachel that, and Rachel said the funniest thing the other day.' Even from the kids. I thought you hated Rachel."

"I hated Rachel when I was seventeen, Justin. I'm sorry that you haven't realized it yet, but people change as they age. Some people grow apart, Rachel and I happen to be growing…together…" There was a question at the end of her sentence, because Quinn had started it but didn't really know where it was going to end, and didn't really know what it meant. "Besides, at least Rachel is around the majority of the time, which is more than can be said for most people who show up for 'surprise' visits and expect the world to stop turning because he's graced it with his presence," Justin didn't respond. "I have to get in the shower. I don't want the kids to be late for school." Quinn slammed the door to her bathroom and started the water, waiting for it to get warm. She didn't know why she had just been so mean to her husband. She _was _happy he was home. She also enjoyed spending the day with Rachel, and his being home was ruining that, not to mention throwing off the family's routine. The moment she thought it she felt bad. She took off her clothes and climbed into the shower. He was a part of the family, and yet for some reason, today at least, he felt like an intrusion. She let the hot water flow over her body and her mind drift to other, less confusing, thoughts.

* * *

Over in Silverlake, Brittany and Santana had fed the twins, showered, and were now sitting at the table eating breakfast while the twins played in their playpen. They were at the age where they repeated anything that was said to them, which proved cute at first, but being twins, had become the most irritating phenomenon of Santana's life. About 15 minute earlier she had said 'Hi' and their back and forth 'hi' had continued ever since.

"Please, Britt, please," Santana said, looking up from the LA Times. "Make it stop." Brittany looked over at their children, sitting in their playpen facing each other.

"Mama!" Brittany said, glancing over at them.

"Mama," Nico said.

"Mama," Olivia said.

"Mama," Nico said.

"Okay," Santana said, "that was_ so_ not helpful." Brittany just smirked at her wife.

"What was Puck calling about this morning?"

'Oh, he had his panties all in a twist because Berry told him that I was drunk during our last game night and apparently at some point I had promised him that the first night I got drunk would be with him at Jumbo's." Santana took a sip of her coffee and returned to her paper. "Anyway," she said, not looking up from the paper, "I told him I would go with him tonight…" There was silence across the table. After a painfully long moment, Santana dared to raise an eye to look at her wife. Just as she suspected, Brittany was glaring at her.

"You're not going," was all Brittany had to say, taking a bite of her banana.

"I have to go, Britt! I promised him!"

"Absolutely not."

"Britt…"

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"Brittany…"

"Don't use my full name with me, Santana," she said, drawing Santana's name out for emphasis. "Let's talk for a moment about what happens when you and Puck have your 'lesbro' nights at Jumbo's. One: you freak out because of the clown décor. Two: Puck tells you that you'll get over it if you drink more. Three: you drink more. Four: you freak out more, because drinking makes clowns scarier to you. Five: Puck reminds you that there are no _real _clowns at Jumbo's, just drawings of clowns and clown dolls, so you should calm down and pay attention to the naked ladies on stage. Six: you drink more, take his advice, and then come home _wasted _and crying because you _looked _at boobs and you're afraid _looking _is _cheating. _Seven: _I _have to comfort you, and assure you that looking at boobs when Puck drags you to a strip bar is inevitable and we have amazing sex. I guess reason seven isn't that bad…"Brittany said, trailing off.

"Well, why don't we find a babysitter and you come with us?" Santana asked, eyeing Brittany hopefully.

"Where are we going to find a babysitter this late?"

"I think Quinn owes me a favor. Her kids _have _given me black eyes twice in the last month…"

"I suppose it _could _be kind of entertaining…" Brittany said. "Besides, I want to be able to keep an eye on you…"

"Oh, please, Britt," Santana said, "I think _looking_ is cheating…why do you need to keep an eye on me?"

"I'm more in it for the entertainment," Brittany said, smirking at Santana.

"It's settled then, I'll call Quinn, and we'll _both _go out tonight." Brittany nodded and they returned to their normal morning routine. After a couple minutes, Brittany looked up.

"See what you've done to our children?" Santana looked up from the paper at her wife, and then over to her two children.

"Panties," Nico said.

"Panties," Olivia said.

"Panties," Nico said.

"I think the nature vs. nurture argument has just been resolved. Those are definitely _your _children."

"You know it," Santana laughed, and resumed reading the news.

* * *

Santana secured her Bluetooth in her ear before taking off to work.

"Hey, Santana," Quinn said, picking her buzzing phone on the island in her kitchen.

"Q, I need a favor."

"Oh god, what is it?"

"I promised Puck I would go out with him tonight, but Britt won't let me go unless she comes. Think you're down for a little babysitting?"

"Wapshhh," Quinn said.

"What?"

"I was just cracking the whip," Quinn smirked into the phone.

"Fuck you, Q…" Quinn laughed.

"I would love to babysit, San, especially after all the hell my kids put you through recently, but Justin surprised us this weekend."

"Please, Quinn. I'm begging you."

"I just really really can't, Santana. I'm sorry. I definitely owe you. Next time, for sure."

"Ugh. Well have fun, and tell Justin a big 'fuck you' from me. Of all the weekends…" Santana trailed off.

"Will do, San," Quinn said, as they hung up the phone.

* * *

Brittany had just put the twins down for their mid-morning nap and grabbed a baby monitor and went into the backhouse to practice. A few years earlier, Santana had converted the back house into a dance studio for her. She was touched, of course, but also suspected it had something to do with her constantly breaking things in their living room when her practicing got too enthusiastic. It really was beautiful, though. Santana had installed hardwood floors and mirrors took up all of one back wall, while a barre took up the opposite wall. She had even put in picture windows, because she knew that Brittany got sad when she didn't get enough sun. She often wondered how Santana had gotten it all done under her nose, although she supposed she wasn't known for being the most…observant…person around. That's why she had Santana, right? Just as she was getting warmed up, her phone started buzzing in the corner.

"Hey Rach! What's up?"

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to let you know that I surprisingly have today and tomorrow off!"

"Oh! That's nice, Rachel." Brittany continued to stretch.

"What are you doing, Britt?"

"I'm stretching…and then I'm going to be dancing."

"Oh, that's great! Are you thinking about going back to work?"

"Soon, I hope. I'm pretty much back to my pre-baby body, so I think I might start going on auditions again and teaching in a month or so…" There was silence again. "So, Rach, did you call for something? Because if not, I think I'm going to get back to dancing…" Over in her apartment, Rachel rolled her eyes. She loved Brittany, but the woman was _so_ not good at getting a hint. If you wanted something, you had to just ask her.

"Well, as you know I've been spending a lot of time with Quinn, but Justin is in town this weekend and I have these days off and I was wondering if maybe you and Santana wanted to do something?"

"Oh!" Brittany said, wondering why she hadn't asked in the first place, instead of taking up her time with all of the small talk. Which wasn't really small. She scrunched her nose up as she thought about it. Small talk really was anything other than small. If she could count the number of minutes she had wasted in her life on small talk it would be big. It would probably by enormous…

"Britt?"

"Oh! Sorry Rachel! I forgot I was on the phone. Do you ever wonder why it's called small talk? It should really be called big talk, because people do it all the time, and because it's usually about big things, like the weather, or life in general…"

"I guess I never thought about it. Anyway, about hanging out this weekend?"

"Oh, sure! But not tonight. San, Puck and I are going to Jumbo's Clown Room."

"Oh."

"I mean you could come if you want, I just don't really think it would be your scene…you know, drinking, strippers…"

"That could be fun?"

"Really? Yay! Okay, we're leaving at ten, just come by here and we'll all go together! You could come to dinner beforehand, if you want…hold on Rach, San's on the other line."

"Hey babe!"

"Hey, B, what are you doing?"

"In the studio, Rachel is on the other line."

"Whatever you do, _do not_ tell her about Jumbo's tonight." There was silence at the other end of the phone. "You told her already didn't you?" Still silence. "Great. So I'll scratch that name off the list of potential babysitters…" Brittany still didn't say anything. "Britt?"

"Why do they call it small talk?"

"Because it's about unimportant shit."

"Oh. Because I think it should be called big stuff."

"B. Can we talk about this later? Q can't babysit because Justin is in town. And you've invited Rachel, so we may have to postpone tonight."

"Deal with it, Santana."

"What?"

"You promised Puck you'd go, and I'm not letting you go without me, so you're only option is to deal with it. Isn't that what you do all day at work? Deal with your client's problems? Well, pretend _I'm _your client, and you have to make me happy, or you're going to lose your job," Brittany snapped into the phone.

"I'm not gonna lie," Santana said quieter now, her voice a little husky, "I'm _super _turned on right now."

"You better be. Now go fix it." Brittany hung up the phone. "Sorry about that Rach."

"No problem. I just yelped Jumbo's Clown Room." Rachel said.

"So are you in?"  
"I suppose I have nothing else to do."

"Yay! Then come here we'll have dinner around seven, then we can get ready together and Puck will be here around ten!"

Brittany pressed end on her phone, not giving Rachel a chance to respond, and saw that she had a text message.

_SanyBear:_

_Still super turned on and _

_ I have to be in a meeting _

_ in 15 minutes and I'm miserable._

_ Why are you so mean to me? And_

_ later on, can you be my client_

_ and I be your lawyer? ;)_

_ Sent: Friday, July 9, 10:52am_

Brittany laughed and sent out a quick text to her wife, before she heard crying resume on the baby monitor and she rushed toward the house. She was never going to get back to work.

Santana collected her files for her meeting and didn't see the text from her wife until she was heading out of her office.

_Wifey:_

_ Ur already my lawyer, babe,_

_ u can give me oral arguments_

_ all night long, and I know u_

_ never stop until ur client is_

_ satisfied, baby…_

_ Sent: Friday, July 9, 10:55am_

Santana was _really _unhapp_y_ she read that text right before her meeting. Now she was really going to be uncomfortable for the rest of the day.

* * *

Santana put her Bluetooth in her ear again as she drove from Paramount back to her office after her meeting.

"Weezy."

"Santana."

"Sup?"

"Why are you calling me?"

"We're friends!"

"Okay, so we may have moved past all that high school bullshit, but you _still_ only actually call me when you want something…otherwise you just send a text or make Brittany call me to come over…"

"I'm growing."

"Bullshit, Santana, what do you want?"

"I don't want anything! I was just thinking, at Lily's birthday party, you were talking about how you and James were thinking about starting a family after your tour is done, and when Brittany and I were thinking about having kids we spent a lot of time with Quinn's kids, to see if we really wanted that…so maybe you'd want to spend some time with my kids tonight?"

"You need a babysitter."

"No, I just thought it would be helpful." Mercedes didn't respond. "_Fine, _weezy, I need a fucking babysitter. I promised Puck I would go with him to Jumbo's and Britt won't let me go unless I bring her, and Justin is in town, and Brittany _invited _Berry, I don't want to leave them with someone I don't trust with like, my own life, but Britt will never forgive me if I don't work this out," Santana said in one breath. Mercedes laughed.

"Obviously I'll be there. I just wanted to hear you express, again, how whipped you are."

"Fuck you, weezy."

"Never gets old. See you tonight." Mercedes hung up the phone.

* * *

Santana sat down at her desk and went through her agenda, trying to determine what remained to be done for the day. Her cell phone buzzed. She read the screen aloud, "Noah Fucking Puckerman," and let it go through to voicemail. She needed to get _some_ work done today, after all. Her phone buzzed again.

_Noah Fucking Puckerman:_

_Answer ur phone. Important._

_Sent: Friday, July 9, 3:20pm  
_

Crackling could be heard through her desk phone.

"Santana? Noah Puckerman on line two for you," her assistant said. "Should I tell him you're in a meeting?"

"No, it's fine, I'll take it." Santana picked up the phone. "What do you want now, Puckerman?"

"Just making sure you weren't going to _bail_ on me, like last time, Queerio."

"That joke stopped being funny when we graduated high school, Puck. And no, I'm not bailing," she said, holding the phone between her ear and her chin while she filed her nails. "Although there has been a little bit of a glitch…"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Brittany and Rachel are coming…"

"No way. _So_ not cool. You _cannot_ go with your wife to a strip club! It like, defeats the purpose of going in the first place, or whatever. And why would Rachel even want to go with us?"

"I don't know, Puck, but that's it. Either Brittany comes or I'm not allowed to go." As soon as the word slipped out of her mouth she regretted it, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Excuse me? Can you repeat that?"

"No."

"Santana Lopez isn't _allowed_ to go?"

"Just drop it, Puck."

"Santana Lopez who once told Darren Aronofsky that if he even _thought_ about butchering her client's script, like he was suggesting, that she would shove his balls so far up his ass that the next time he tried to shoot off some knuckle babies they would be coming out of his tear ducts?" Santana smirked. "Who made two executives at Disney quit, one of whom left town, the other of whom appeared to have wet his pants, after a closed-door meeting about royalties for one of her clients?"

"I'll never tell what happened that day, Puck, so don't bother trying…"

"Santana Lopez, who got me my asking rate for the film I'm currently working on just by looking at the executive in the eyes?"

"How could I justify making you buy all of our drinks tonight if I didn't make sure you were making a grotesque $13 million to run in front of a green screen and occasionally yell obscenities at actors in police officer costumes?" Puck chose to ignore this.

"Yet, little, sweet, Brittany probably just looked at you and you caved. Did you even put up a fight?"

"Of course!"

"What, did you say 'no' once and she pouted?"

"No!" Santana said. "_God_, why does everyone think I'm so fucking whipped?" Puck laughed.

"Because no one has ever seen anyone so whipped. And that's totally what happened. Whatever. I'll pick you ladies up at 10." Puck hung up the phone. Santana looked at her phone. It was 3:30 on a Friday, and it was becoming apparent that she had gotten no work done so far that day, and that she probably wouldn't get any done in the next couple hours. Plus it was Friday. Don't people leave work early on Friday? She pushed a button on the phone in her desk.

"Natalie?"

"I'm here!" Her assistant replied.

"I'm going home. It's Friday," Santana justified. "You should get out of here too. Enjoy your weekend."

"Thanks, Santana!" Santana packed up her briefcase and headed home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Hello lovely people! I hope you all enjoy this exceedingly long chapter...I considered dividing it into two, but eventually decided against it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and as always, your reviews, story alerts, favorite stories, and all that jazz really brighten my day. So, thank you all for reading and reviewing!

* * *

"Mmmm," Brittany cooed into Santana's hair. She traced lines up and down her wife's arm. "I love it when you come home from work early. Santana kissed the space between Brittany's breasts.

"I love it when I come home early and find you all sweaty in your dance clothes."

"I love it when you come home early and the babies are conveniently taking a super long nap." Santana's forehead scrunched. "What time did you say they went down for their nap?"

"3:30." Brittany said.

"It's 6, Britt. Since when do they sleep this long during the day?"

"You worry too much. We would have heard them if they were up," Brittany said sleepily, kissing Santana's head, and gesturing over to their baby monitor. "I don't even want to know what you're going to be like when they start walking…or when they're teenagers…"

"I'm just gonna check on them, okay?" Brittany groaned as Santana got up and threw on a white tank top and old cheerleading shorts.

Santana walked down the hall and opened the door to her children's room. She was surprised by what she found.

"Berry!" Rachel sat on the ground playing with wooden blocks while Nico and Olivia crawled on the ground around her.

"Oh, hello, Santana."

"Um…not to be rude, but what are you doing here?," Santana crossed her arms over her chest. "Have you done something terrible to my children? Are you stalking me?" Santana quickly picked up Nico and inspected him.

""What! No! Brittany invited me over for dinner before we went out, and I was at a loss for what to do with the rest of my day, so I thought I'd come by and see if she needed any help preparing. I knocked a few times, but no one answered, so I used the spare key to let myself in."

"Why do you know where my spare key is?" Santana asked, now inspecting Olivia.

"Brittany told me. I think Brittany's told everyone…she was really worried she'd forget…anyway, I let myself in, and I called your names, but no one answered, but once I got to the kitchen I _heard_ that you guys…were…well, you know…busy…"

"Berry, we're thirty. You can say it. Hav-ing sex." Santana said it like she was sounding the words out for a five-year-old. Rachel glared at her.

"So then I checked on the babies, and they were awake, staring at each other in their cribs just saying 'boobs' back and forth, which I thought was odd…" Santana rolled her eyes, but internally was thinking that she might have to actually consider cleaning up her language. She was pretty sure the only words her children could say so far were ma, mama, hi, milk, boobs, and panties. "So, I turned off the monitor, thinking that new parents could always use some more 'alone' time and we've been playing with blocks ever since.

"Baby, are they up?" Brittany's voice could be heard down the hall, still sounding a little sleepy, and a little husky, and very sexy. Santana tried to push those thoughts from her mind. "Because people are coming to dinner and I should—hey, Rachel!" Brittany said as she entered the room, waving excitedly at her. Santana smirked. Brittany had put on a _very _see through tank top and panties, but hadn't even bothered with pants.

"Hey, Britt." Rachel said, shifting awkwardly on her feet.

"I didn't know you were here!"

"I let myself in… while you were…you know…" Brittany giggled.

"I'm gonna put on some clothes, but then do you want to help me with dinner?" Rachel just nodded as Brittany skipped out of the room.

"Do you need help getting your jaw off the floor, Berry, or do you think you can handle it on your own?" Santana asked. Rachel turned bright red.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Santana." Santana laughed.

"Based on that blush you have going right now, I'd say you know _exactly _what I'm talking about. So let's get that jaw back in its place, because that's _my_ wife."

"I was just surprised at her being practically naked…"

"Mmhmm." She winked at Rachel, unable to hide her sarcasm even, in a sound. "Now you see why I brag every time I get to tap that…"

"You're gross. I'm going to the kitchen to help Brittany with dinner." Rachel left. Santana scooped both of her children under an arm and headed to the kitchen herself.

"Not my fault your mom's so bangin', is it?" She posed the hypothetical question to the babies as she walked. "Ugh…please don't pick up the word 'bangin'…" To her relief, a long stream of "mama" back and forth was all that they heard for the rest of the night. She may have heard "boobs" thrown in, once and awhile, but she wasn't about to bring that to the attention of the rest of the group.

* * *

Puck showed up at 9:50. Santana, Brittany, and Rachel were still putting the finishing touches on their outfits for the night when they heard Mercedes and James let him in.

"I swear," Santana said, "strip clubs are the only thing that man shows up on time for…" as she clasped the buckle on her shoe. A few minutes later there was a bang on the door.

"Lesbos! Let's go!"

"Hold the…duck…up, Puckerman!" Santana yelled.

"I don't even know what that was, Lopez," Puck yelled through the door. "Already today you admitted that you weren't _allowed_ to do something," Brittany smirked, "and now you're censoring yourself? I thought the epitome of your being whipped was the day you got married, but you're really putting that to shame…" Brittany opened the door.

"It's _Pierce_-Lopez now, Puck. Santana _Pierce_-Lopez. That should explain some things to you," Brittany said, as she walked out the door past Puck. Santana followed after her.

"And our kids have said both 'panties' and 'boobs' today so I'm trying to clean up my language, okay?" Santana said defensively as she walked through the door.

"One: they obviously take after you. Two: what the h-e double hockey sticks are you doing around here that they learned 'boobs' and 'panties'?" Puck asked. Rachel was the last to exit the room, shutting the door behind her.

"You have no idea," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm praying that means that I missed some threesome action," Puck said, smirking.

"Puck!" All three said at once.

"You're disgusting," Rachel said.

"I don't know _why _I agreed to go out with you tonight," Santana said.

"I don't know why you're friends with him," Brittany said, looking at Santana.

"Oh, come on, ladies! We're going to have an amazing time!" All three rolled their eyes.

* * *

It took Santana twenty minutes to go over all of the emergency contact information and the bedtime routine for the twins with Mercedes and James, but, eventually they had all piled into Puck's car and made it to Jumbo's. Santana clutched tightly to Brittany's hand as Puck led them over to the VIP section.

"I hate it here," Santana whispered into Brittany's ear.

"I know you do, baby," Brittany looked apologetically at Santana. As soon as they sat at one of the tall tables with clown faces painted in the middle, a waitress dressed in just a bra and underwear was at their table.

"Welcome back, Mr. Puckerman!" She said, seductively.

"Why thank you, Chastity. You're a sight for sore eyes," Puck winked at her and Santana rolled her eyes. "I think we'll start off tonight with two rounds of Patron and Stella's for all." The waitress nodded and left the table.

"I don't think I can handle all of that at once, Noah," Rachel said, a look of fear crossing her face. "Plus, you know alcohol can severely damage your vocal chords…"

"Oh, come on, Rach, live a little! We _never _do stuff like this…" The waitress returned with their drinks. Puck raised his shot glass in the air and gestured for everyone else to follow suit. "To Brittany and Santana, and their return to adulthood!" They all clinked their glasses and threw back the shots. Brittany and Rachel scrunched their noses as the tequila his their throats. After she had swallowed, Rachel chugged half her beer in an attempt to get the tequila taste out of her mouth. Puck picked up his second shot. "To Brittany Pierce-Lopez, the only human on earth known to tame the fierce, the bad-ass, Santana Pierce-Lopez!" Everyone raised their shots. Well, everyone except Brittany, who was staring at a Latina girl with long dark hair who was slowly twisting her way down the pole on stage. Santana lightly punched her in the arm.

"Britt!"

"Sorry…" Brittany said sheepishly, turning a little red. "I was just admiring her…dance moves…" Puck laughed.

"She looks a little like Santana in high school, huh, Britt?" He winked.

"What do you mean in high school, Puckerman? I _still _look that good," Santana said and Brittany nodded.

"Well, how should I know? I haven't seen _that _much of you since high school…" Brittany punched Puck in the arm. It was not light. "Jesus, Britt, where'd you get those guns?" Brittany shrugged and they threw back their second round of shots.

"San…"Brittany whispered over to Santana, "you're hurting my hand." Santana parted her eyes from the creepy clown doll sitting at the bar and looked over at her wife.

"I'm sorry, baby." Santana said sheepishly, looking at her lap and releasing her grip on Brittany's hand very slightly. "I don't like all these clowns." Brittany couldn't help but look at Santana amused. "I think the only way I get through these nights is the Puckerman way…I have to go to the bar." Brittany rolled her eyes.

"You're going to regret it in the morning," Brittany whispered to her.

"SEE!" Puck said, interrupting their conversation. "_This _is why you don't bring your wife to a strip club. You're not supposed to be whispering to each other! You're _supposed _to be taking in all the half-naked eye candy!" Santana scowled at Puck.

"I hate it here, you know that. I'm going to the bar." Santana sauntered off.

"She just really doesn't like clowns…" Brittany said, apologetically.

* * *

Santana took a seat at the bar, briefly wondering why she puts herself through these nights at Jumbo's Clown Room again and again.

"What can I get for you, baby?" The bartender leaned over the bar at her.

"Three shots of Patron on Puckerman's tab and a promise to never call me baby again," Santana said scowling. He rolled his eyes, but showed up a minute later with three shots and three lime wedges. Santana immediately threw back all three drinks.

"Take it easy there, slugger." Santana turned to the blond who had just sidled up next to her. She couldn't help but be taken aback. This woman was gorgeous. She was obviously one of the dancers; all she was wearing was a black lace bra, matching panties, and fishnets held up with garters. She had shoulder length blond hair and striking hazel-green eyes. "Dustin," the woman said, facing the bartender now, "get me two more shots of whatever she's having." He poured out two shots of Patron and handed them to her. She pushed one over towards Santana.

"I think I may have had enough for now…" Santana said, smiling at the woman. "I just really don't like clowns…"

"But I really like you…" the woman said, seductively. "Please, my treat." Santana smiled and they clinked their glasses together before taking the shot. The woman leaned in close to Santana.

"Let me give you a private dance later…on the house…" she breathed into Santana's ear. Santana didn't know what to say, so instead she just flashed the woman her left hand, showing off her wedding ring. "Well," the woman said, "what the hubby doesn't know can't hurt him."

"But the _wifey _who's right there will definitely be hurt." Santana gestured over to Brittany, her eyes narrowing. That little Latina teenager from the stage now topless and practically in Brittany's lap.

"It obviously doesn't bother _wifey _at all…" Santana now glared at the woman next to her.

"I have to go," was all Santana could muster.

"I'm Naomi, by the way," the woman said as Santana turned to leave.

"Santana." Santana said as she walked away.

* * *

"Brit!" Santana said, as she got to the table.

"Yeah?" Brittany asked, glancing over at Santana with a goofy grin on her face and quickly turned back to dancer in front of her.

"Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez." Brittany turned to look at Santana again.

"Yeah? Why'd you say my full name?" Brittany returned her gaze to the naked boobs in front of her.

"_Because_ you're my _wife_ and you currently are staring at someone else's naked boobs!" The dancer stopped moving.

"We're at a strip club," Brittany said, deadpan. "And how many times do I have to tell you, San, looking is not cheating." Brittany turned back to the stripper on her lap, who continued dancing, but was now looking a little nervous under Santana's glare. Finally Santana rolled her eyes and walked back to the bar.

* * *

"One more and a Stella," she said quickly to the bartender who quickly returned with her drinks. She threw back the shot and began to nurse her beer. The dreaded lap dance had finally ended and now the three at the table were laughing and occasionally looking up at the stage. The stripper she talked to earlier, Naomi, was now doing a seductive dance around the pole. Santana looked back at the table. Brittany and Puck were laughing, but Rachel was now completely focused on the dancer. Santana smirked and decided to rejoin the group.

"Done with mini-me, B?" Santana said, sliding onto the chair next to her wife. Brittany smirked.

"You're hotter, San," Brittany said, looking over at her wife. "Besides, I don't see why you and Puck always get to have all of the fun…"

"Santana never gets a lap dance though, Britt," Puck interjected, without taking his eyes away from the stage.

"Really?" Brittany looked over at Santana who shook her head but kept her eyes down in her lap.

"Why would I get a lap dance?" Santana said softly. "I go home to the most beautiful, perfect, amazing dancer every night…" she said, her words only slightly slurring from all the alcohol she'd consumed in the last hour. Brittany looked like she was going to burst from happiness. Brittany cupped Santana's cheek.

"And I come home to the most beautiful, perfect Latina woman every night. Who looks exactly like she did when she was seventeen," Brittany lightly kissed Santana's lips. "I only got the dance because she offered and I felt bad saying no…I didn't want her to get sad…" Brittany said, kissing Santana again.

"You're cute," Santana said.

"Not as cute as you," Brittany said, kissing her wife's lips a third time.

"ENOUGH," Puck yelled, slamming his beer on the table. He signaled to the cocktail waitress that they were ready for another round. "I did _not_ come to my favorite strip bar so I could watch you two being all gross and lovey-dovey!" Santana looked down, embarrassed again, and Brittany laughed. "So…can we _please _refocus our attention to the amazingly hot naked girls dancing on stage?" All three looked at the stage where Naomi was still dancing. Santana noticed it again. After all of that noise, Rachel still hadn't removed her attention from the stage. The waitress brought their drinks, and Puck was holding his in the air, waiting for the other three to follow suit.

"Earth to Berry!" Santana said, receiving no response from Rachel. She tapped her shoulder. Rachel turned to look at Santana, her eyebrows raised, waiting for the Latina woman to ask her a question. Santana smirked.

"I just wanted to let you know that there was a line of drool hanging on your face. Oh, and it's time for more drinks." Rachel didn't say anything, she just nodded, took her shot without the rest of the group, took a swig of beer, and then returned her focus back to the stage. The other three gaped on.

"Okay," said Puck, "I guess we're on our own…"

"I got this one Puck," Santana raised her glass. "To Rachel Fucking Berry, being a giant lesbian." They all threw back their shots.

"I'm not a lesbian," Rachel said, finally turning back to the group.

"Well, that blush on your face would beg to differ," Santana said. The flush on Rachel's face deepened.

"What? So what, I may have dabbled a bit in college," Rachel said, her voice husky and slightly slurred from all the alcohol. "I mean, who didn't? But that hardly qualifies me as a lesbian."

"And high school," Brittany pointed out.

"Excuse me?" Rachel said.

"You dabbled in high school, too." Brittany clarified. Santana and Puck smirked.

"What makes you think I was ever with a woman in high school?" Rachel asked nervously.

"Drunk-face Quinn told us _all_ about it at our wedding reception," Santana said.

"Well, I hardly think _that_ counts either," Rachel said. "It was one time, we were wasted because _someone_," she said, not so subtly look over at Puck, "kept making us take shots. Besides, that year was all confusing! Like, _everyone_ was being super gay, and in our drunk haze we thought maybe we were gay too but didn't know because we had never made out with a girl. So we made out. You know, to find out."

"And what was the outcome of your research?" Santana asked. Rachel just glared at her.

"Then why were you staring at the dancer?" Puck asked.

"We're at a strip club!" Rachel said, taking a swig of her beer and trying to hide her exasperation at the line of questioning. "What else am I supposed to look at! Besides, she reminded me of Jack."

"Who's Jack?" Puck asked. Rachel just didn't respond. Santana's forehead scrunched, as she tried to get her alcohol soaked brain to piece together why the name Jack brought up some sort of memory with regards to Rachel.

"Wait!" Santana said. "The Jack you dated in college?" Rachel nodded, "Jack was a girl?" Santana and Puck's mouths dropped open. Rachel wasn't sure it was possible for her to get any redder.

"Look," Rachel said, "it's no big deal. I dated Jack for like a year in college and she totally broke my heart…" Santana and Puck were still gaping at her. "So…maybe I'm a little bit bisexual. I like to think of it as being attracted to the _person_, not the _gender_. And I would think that you would be the last person to judge me, Santana."

"Did you know about this?" Santana's head snapped over to Brittany, who nodded. "And you didn't tell me? I thought we didn't keep secrets…"

"I _did_ tell you, San. I told you a bunch of times. They started dating during your whole Senior thesis crisis when you pretty much didn't listen to _anything_ anyone said." Santana looked down.

"Oh, sorry about that, B," Santana looked down. Brittany examined her wife's face. If she didn't know any better, the look on her wife's face was less one of embarrassment and more one of scheming.

"I. Love. This. Night." Puck said. "I can't get the image of Quinn and Rachel getting it on out of my head now. All thanks to the Puckmaster." Puck grinned. Rachel hit his arm. He yelped. "Jesus, what is with you girls and your strength, lately?"

"I do _not_ want to talk about Quinn tonight," Rachel said, taking another swig of her beer.

"What's going on with you and Q?" Santana asked.

"Nothing." Rachel huffed. "I'm just really tired of coming over at one in the morning when Justin has done something stupid and Quinn is drunk and mad, or worse, drunk and hurt, and then having to stand by every time he swoops back into to town and pretend like everything is okay. I just don't understand why she doesn't tell him how unhappy she is, or tell him that his behavior is unacceptable. Instead, she treats me like a sad little puppy who she can't get rid of, and allows him to walk over her." Rachel finished her beer.

"She doesn't treat you like that, Rach. I talked to Q today," Brittany said, resting her hand on Rachel's. "She felt really bad that she couldn't hang out with you and called me because she was upset with Justin, and upset with herself that she couldn't just cancel on him and spend the day with you. It's just…" Brittany looked at Santana for assistance.

"Well, he's her husband, and, like you said, she _doesn't_ get to spend much time with him, and their relationship isn't going to get better if when he actually bothers to show up for his family she ditches them to hang out with her best friend." Rachel's eyes lit up a little when Santana referred to Rachel as Quinn's best friend. "Besides, I have an idea that will cheer you up." Santana smirked.

"Oh no, Santana. You're ideas to cheer me up _never _end well."

"Trust me. I've got this." Santana got up and went to the bar.

* * *

Santana leaned on the bar, impatiently tapping her fingers.

"Another shot?" The bartender asked, throwing his towel over his shoulder. Santana caught sight of her target.

"Two, actually." He slid the tequila over to her, along with two limes and a salt-shaker. It only took a couple of seconds before she caught Naomi's eye. She held up the shot glass and the dancer sauntered over to her.

"Hey," the dancer said, placing her hands on her hips.

"You were great up there," Santana said, intentionally turning on her sex voice. She handed the dancer the shot. She was about to pour the salt on her wrist before Santana stopped her. "Wait," she said, taking the salt-shaker from her and instead dusting it in the crook of her collarbone. The dancer smirked as Santana put the lime in her mouth, so that less than half of it was in her teeth. She had to work this out so that her lips never _actually_ touched the dancer's. Naomi slowly ran her tongue along Santana's collarbone, lapping up the salt and then threw the shot back, gently taking the lime from Santana's lips. Santana threw her shot back immediately.

"I take it you're ready for that dance, now?" Naomi said seductively, resting her hand on Santana's hip.

"Actually, I had a favor to ask you," Santana flirted with the dancer.

"Anything, gorgeous." It took all of Santana's willpower to not roll her eyes.

"See, we're out with my friend tonight, and she needs some cheering up. You look a little like a girl she dated in college, so I was wondering if you could give _her_ that lap dance." Naomi looked a little annoyed.

"Which one?" She asked.

"The brunette." Again, it took all of Santana's willpower to not snark back at her that it obviously it wasn't the one she had previously pointed out as her wife.

"Okay," she said, running one hand down Santana's arm. "But only because I believe no good deed goes unrewarded." She sauntered in front of Santana toward the table. Santana just rolled her eyes.

Santana took a seat next to Brittany and watched Naomi whisper into Rachel's ear. Santana wished with all her might at that moment that she could hear what Naomi was saying because Rachel flushed a dark red. Puck raised an eyebrow at Santana who just smirked.

"I saw you flirting with that stripper," Brittany whispered over to Santana, her voice husky with the combination of alcohol and desire. It was Santana's turn to blush. "I'm very, _very_, angry with you."

"We can do a shot like that, if you want, B," Santana said, whispering into her wife's lips.

"Don't think that's going to make up for everything…" Santana signaled to the waitress who returned with a round for everyone. Puck took his all alone, silently shaking his head for thinking it would be a good idea to go out to a strip club with a group of lesbians as he took the sight in around him. Rachel and her stripper had taken their shots, and Rachel was trying unsuccessfully to conceal how turned on she was. It like, made Puck uncomfortable, which was saying a lot. Brittany was currently slowly dragging her tongue along Santana's collarbone, and Santana was gripping her beer so tightly her knuckles had turned white. One of Brittany's hands was around her shot glass and Puck was unsure of where the other one was. He just shook his head again. The song ended, Santana looked like she was going to jump Brittany in any moment, and Naomi was whispering something to Rachel before she turned and walked away.

"I think we're done here." Puck said.

* * *

It was only a minor fight with Puck to get them to take a cab home instead of driving. Brittany and Santana sat in the very back of the van, while Puck and Rachel sat in the next row. Rachel was trying desperately to tune out the sound of Brittany and Santana by singing loudly.

"Would you _please_ stop that, Rachel!" Puck finally said, turning to her.

"I'm sorry, Noah, but I just _really_ can't listen to them going at it right now."

"Why? Turns you on too much? Especially after that _hot _lap dance?"

"Noah, you know everything doesn't have to be about sex."

"Says you, who just said you were trying to tune them out, when I think SANTANA is just being a big baby as usual." Puck yelled Santana's name.

"Fuck you, Puck!" Santana said between sobs. Rachel turned around. Santana's head was in Brittany's lap and Brittany was petting her hair.

"Shh, baby," Brittany said, "I know you were just flirting with her to get a free dance for Rachel. It's okay, it's okay. I was just joking when I said I was angry." Brittany rolled her eyes at Puck and Rachel who had turned to look at them.

"Who _is_ she?" Rachel asked Puck.

"No one knows anymore…"

* * *

Mercedes' husband was snoring loudly in the guest bedroom when they got home. Brittany and Santana quickly checked on their sleeping children, and Brittany made up the pull out couch for Puck and Rachel, who were definitely way too drunk to drive themselves home. She also complied with Rachel's request for a barrier dividing her from Puck, which they made with a stack of couch cushions and a body pillow.

"I'll make breakfast for everyone in the morning, we're going to need something to ward off these hangovers." Brittany said. Puck had already passed out and Rachel just nodded.

Brittany crawled into her bed next to her crying wife.

"Baby, you need to calm down."

"I just love you so much, B. Do you know that? I would never _ever_ flirt with anyone else unless I had an ulterior motive."

"I know that, San," Brittany said, yawning. "Let me make you feel better." Santana shook her head, but Brittany ignored it, and, despite her tiredness, pulled Santana into a long, deep kiss, relishing the sound of Santana moaning beneath her. Even as Brittany felt herself get turned on by the sight of her wife, she couldn't help but think that next time, she was really putting her foot down. Santana was _never _going to Jumbo's Clown Room again.

* * *

In the living room, Rachel checked her phone and tried to ignore Puck's loud snoring.

**_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_**

_B invited me to brunch tomorrow._

_You going to be there?_

_Sent: Saturday, July 10, 1:54am_

**_Rachel Berry:_**

_Yeah. How was your night?_

_You would have had fun with us_

_tonight._

_Sent: Saturday, July 10, 2:01am_

**_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_**

_I wish I could have come. Did_

_you have fun?_

_Sent: Saturday, July 10, 2:03am_

**_Rachel Berry:_**

_Yeah. Why are you still up?_

_Sent: Saturday, July 10, 2:10am_

**_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_**

_Dunno. Couldn't sleep I guess._

_Glad you had fun…excited to see_

_you tomorrow. Night, Rach._

_Sent: Saturday, July 10, 2:11am_

**_Rachel Berry:_**

_Night, Q._

_Sent: Saturday, July 10, 2:15am_

Rachel curled up into the stuffed duck Brittany had given her and let the alcohol take over as she fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Also, as a side note, does anyone know how to work tumblr and want to explain it me? Because I don't understand how to post things on there...I'm like technologically deficient...anyway, I hope you enjoyed!


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **As always, thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I can't believe there are over 100! Also, thank you everyone for the info about Tumblr, I think I'm going to try and set one up. Now on to the story! I hope you all enjoy it! And please keep reviewing!

* * *

"Jesus," Rachel said, rubbing her eyes.

"You a Jew for Jesus now, Rach?" Puck asked from the other side of the bed.

"Ugh. One: I do _not_ like waking up to your voice, Noah. Two: No, it's just the sun is way too bright, and I don't understand why Brittany feels the need to sing Ke$ha's _We Are Who We Are _right now."

"Well, if you were, I'd still respect you. Jesus was kind of cool, you know?"

"I _really_ don't like waking up next to you, Noah," Rachel said, stretching as she got out of bed. She walked into the kitchen, still in a pair of Brittany's pajamas.

"Thanks for letting me stay here last night, Britt," Rachel said through a yawn.

"Of course!" Brittany said, cheerfully, balancing the baby on her hip. "I mean, I obviously wasn't going to let you drive home…" Rachel nodded. Brittany reached up into the cabinet and grabbed a mug, and poured some coffee into it.

"Do you take cream or sugar?"

"No," Rachel said, "black is fine." Brittany handed Rachel the coffee. Rachel watched on as Brittany expertly handled the child and the cooking at once. Not bad, Rachel thought, for someone who once said they couldn't have a bake sale because recipes were too confusing. "Can I use your shower, Britt? And maybe borrow some clothes?" Brittany nodded.

"There are clean towels in the bathroom down the hall, and all of my clothes are in my room, obviously, but San's dead asleep, so you shouldn't have to worry about picking something out." Rachel walked down the hall into the bathroom and turned the water on. She felt like she was washing the debauchery of the previous night off of her. She wrapped herself in a bright yellow towel and walked into Brittany's room, staring at the closet.

"B, baby, come back to bed," came a muffled voice from the bed.

"Oh, Santana!" Rachel said, uncomfortable, "it's Rachel, I'm just borrowing some clothes. I'll be gone in a second."

"Stop being silly, B," Santana said again, her face still buried in the pillow over her head. "I know I was probably out of control last night, although I don't remember, and I want to make it up to you, baby. I'm not going to get out of this bed until I hear you screaming my name—"

"SANTANA!" Rachel interjected. It's Rachel 'midget, manhands, dwarf' Berry. Please. Stop."

"Baby, I can't really hear you. There's too much throbbing in my head. Please just come here. I promise if you come here right now I will fuck your brains out and you…" Santana continued talking as Rachel left the room and walked down the hall towards the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Britt," Rachel yelled as she walked down the hall, "I tried to borrow some clothes, but Santana refused to look up from her pillow and was convinced I was you and I…I just…I felt uncomfortable…" Rachel trailed off as she entered the kitchen to find all of Quinn and Justin in the kitchen. She felt all of the blood rushing to her cheeks and found herself in the very unusual predicament of having nothing to say.

"San's really into morning sex," Brittany said nonchalantly.

"Anyway, can you get her up or something? Or get me something to wear?" Rachel asked, clutching tightly to her towel. Brittany nodded and handed Olivia to Quinn, walking out of the room.

"Hey Rach," Quinn said softly, silently hoping that the heat she felt in her cheeks was in her imagination.

"Hi Quinn. Nice to see you, Justin."

"You as well," they all stood their awkwardly. Rachel desperately wished she could disappear. Or at least be wearing some clothes. It felt like an hour as they all stood in silence, but, in reality, it was closer to two minutes before Brittany came back.

"I put some of Santana's clothes for you in the bathroom down the hall, Rach, I think she's closer to your size. And Santana's in the shower, she'll be up in a minute."

"Thank you," Rachel managed to croak out as she walked down the hall.

Brittany got back to task, mixing the dry ingredients for the pancakes together.

"Why are you so red, Q?" She asked, as she went into the cabinet to get the baking powder. Quinn just shrugged, squeezing her husband's hand tightly.

"Just hot, I guess."

* * *

Twenty minutes had passed and Rachel was still in the bathroom, just staring at her reflection. She knew they must be wondering what she was doing in here; Brittany had only left her a pair of Santana's tiny shorts and a black tank top, it should have taken her just five minutes to get changed. Rachel tried to fix her hair, she hadn't blowdried it so it fell in loose, haphazard curls around her head. It was messier than Rachel usually wore her hair, but she kind of liked it. She pulled down on Santana's little shorts and the tight tank top and silently wished that Brittany had found her something a little more…conservative…in Santana's wardrobe. Especially since the only shoes Rachel had were the cowboy boots she'd been wearing the night before. There was a light knock on the door.

"Hold on!" Rachel said. "I'll be out in a second."

"It's just me," Quinn's voice came from the other side. "Can I come in?" Rachel thought for a second and unlocked the bathroom door. Quinn slipped in, shutting and locking the door behind her.

"What's up?" Rachel asked, looking at Quinn through her reflection in the mirror, and pretending to be busy putting lip gloss on.

"Why are you being weird?" Quinn asked, point blank.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rachel said.

"You're being weird, Rach. And what have you been doing in here for so long?"

"Getting ready. What does it matter to you?" Quinn looked hurt for a moment, but quickly shifted into annoyed mode.

"See. You're being weird."

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Quinn," Rachel said, inspecting her hair in the mirror. They sat in silence for a moment, Rachel still only looking at Quinn though her reflection in the mirror.

"Look, Rachel, let's cut the bullshit, okay? We're not sixteen anymore. Look at me." Rachel turned around so she was facing Quinn, who had her arms across her chest. "Look, I know you're not happy with Justin right now…"

"He's making you miserable, Quinn!" Rachel said, angrily.

"Wait, let me finish. But you should know that I _didn't_ just let him waltz back in here and pretend that everything is okay. But, I couldn't just say, 'oh, so glad you came to visit, husband, father of my children, but I'm going to spend one of the two full days you're here with my best friend,' without coming across as an enormous bitch and maybe the worst wife and mother in the world." Rachel looked down. She knew Quinn was right. She just didn't know how much it would hurt. Quinn reached down and grabbed Rachel's hand. "You _know _I would have rather spent yesterday with you, right?" Rachel slowly looked up to meet Quinn's gaze, but something about looking into Quinn's hazel eyes made her feel too vulnerable at the moment so she quickly looked back down at the ground. They didn't say anything for awhile, and Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand in reassurance.

"I'm sorry," Rachel began, not looking up from her feet. "I know that I'm being unreasonable about this. I just…I can't stand how he makes you feel, Quinn." There were so many thoughts, so many emotions bubbling in Rachel at the moment and she needed to control them, needed to be alone to harness whatever it was that she was feeling right now…maybe channel it into a song? Or some sort of moving monologue? She just needed to keep it from bursting out of her in some sort of unpredictable word vomit. Just then, Quinn laughed. Rachel looked at her, questioningly. Quinn lightly touched her cheek, for just a moment before removing it.

"You're overthinking something, Rach. I can see it in your face. Like the little cogs in your brain are moving too fast." Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's kind of cute," Quinn said softly. "I know we have plans for Monday, but you're off on Sunday, aren't you?" Rachel nodded. "Justin leaves around three. Why don't we take the girls to Griffith Park, and I can cook dinner and we can catch up…you know…on all we missed in the last 72 hours of not hanging out?" Quinn smirked a bit and looked at Rachel with a glint in her eye that, as of late, resulted in Rachel agreeing to whatever Quinn said.

"Only if our Monday night movie can be the 1976 _A Star is Born _starring Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson."

"Deal," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

"And you promise to not make fun of the cheesiness that is _Evergreen._"

"Fine," Quinn said, "although I don't know what that means." Rachel smirked.

"I think you might regret agreeing to that." Rachel said, turning back to the mirror. Quinn shrugged.

"You know," Quinn said, looking at Rachel's reflection in the mirror and pulling a strand of her hair out of her eyes, "I really like your hair like this…you know…naturally curly. It's pretty." They made eye contact in the mirror, Quinn's hand still in Rachel's hair.

"Hey, guys," Santana knocked on the door, jiggling the doorknob to find it locked. "Breakfast is ready, come on!" Quinn turned towards the door while Rachel gathered up her makeup bag.

"Also, I think you should consider wearing Santana's wardrobe more often…you know…mix it up a bit," she said, as she unlocked and opened the door, breezing past Santana. Rachel followed soon after. Santana paused for a moment, glanced in her bathroom, and then walked down the hall towards the patio with one eyebrow raised.

* * *

"Yay!" Brittany said as everyone took their seats outside. "So glad to have everyone here for our hangover special…I just wish everyone could have been there to enjoy the fun parts resulting in this hangover…"

"You don't seem hungover, Britt," Rachel pointed out.

"I don't do hangovers. I'm too badass for them…" Brittany said, shrugging her shoulders. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Santana continued, "hangover special includes, the hair of the dog, for those of us who need it," Santana said, gesturing to the pitchers of Mimosas and Bloody Mary's, "obviously made by yours truly," she said, gesturing to herself. Now Brittany rolled her eyes.

"Pancakes, bacon, sausage, vegan bacon, vegan sausage," Santana rolled her eyes while Rachel's lit up, "scrambled eggs, fruit salad, coffee, orange juice, and of course…drum roll please," Santana banged her hands on the table, "water…the only real cure for your hangover."

"Everyone who drank last night must have all four of the beverages: water to rehydrate you, coffee to energize you, orange juice to fuel your sad livers, and liquor to give you the illusion that you feel better. Because I want everyone the hell out of my house by three…" Santana said. Brittany hit her arm.

"Dig in!" Brittany said. They began to pass the food around the table. As the food went around people began to engage in small conversations with those sitting closest to them.

"So, Justin, we're all surprised to see you back this time of year," Santana said, handing Justin the pancakes. "Not that we're not happy to see you," Santana quickly added.

"Thanks, Santana," Justin said laughing. He had known her since their first week of college and was used to the fact that pretty much everything she said sounded sarcastic. "I made Quinn a promise that I would try and stay home more often, and after Lily's birthday party I realized that I really had to make good on it." Santana nodded, handing him the eggs.

"Good for you, J." They sat silently for a moment while Santana poured herself some coffee and Justin scooped eggs onto his plate. "Do you remember what I told you on your wedding day?"

"And on the day I took Quinn on our first date? And when I asked her to be my girlfriend? And when I asked her to marry me?" Santana smirked.

"Yes. Please repeat it to me."

"If you hurt my best friend," Justin said, pouring himself some coffee, "I will take the Vietnam War issued machete given to me as a graduation present from my psychotic High School Cheerleading coach and slowly carve off your balls with it's dulled edge until you no longer understand what pain truly is." Santana nodded, approvingly.

"Just keep that in mind, J," Santana said. Justin laughed.

"I can't believe you have children."

"You should talk." Santana smirked.

* * *

"How were my babies?" Brittany asked Mercedes and James, who were sitting next to her.

"They were delightful, as always, Britt," Mercedes said.

"Sometimes I think we're getting a skewed view of what parenthood is like," James added, "because you just have the calmest, sweetest, most pleasant babies ever." Brittany couldn't help but beam as she watched her two children bounce up and down in their little bouncers, just saying "boobs" back and forth to one another. They were definitely pretty delightful.

"Yeah, they're pretty much perfect," Brittany said, ruffling Nico's hair. "I'm not gonna lie, I seriously doubt anyone's ability to have children as perfect as my own, but I encourage your attempt to exceed perfection," Brittany said. Mercedes laughed out loud.

* * *

"So, Lily, did you tell Rach the exciting news you had from school?" Quinn asked her daughter who was sitting next to Rachel across from her at the table. Lily shook her head.

"I got a part in my school play," Lily said, quietly.

"Oh my gosh, Lil, that's so exciting!" Rachel said. Lily blushed.

"Don't be embarrassed, Lily, tell her about it!" Quinn said, winking at Rachel across the table, amused by her daughter's uncharacteristic silence. Rachel poured some orange juice into Lily's cup and then some into her own, as Puck absentmindedly shoved the bacon over, his head in his hands.

"I get to be Peter Pan, and my best friend from school gets to be Wendy!" Rachel smiled at the girl, ruffling her hair. "She's really pretty and funny and smart, you'll like her, Rachel," Lily said. Quinn smiled, glad that Santana was not paying attention to their conversation to add to the growing body of evidence that her middle child was a lesbian. Quinn would be fine if she were, of course, but she was happy letting the girl figure it out in her own time.

"Well, Miss Lily, if you ever want to run your lines or practice your songs with someone, you know who to ask." Rachel said to the little girl, piling some eggs upon both of their plates.

"Where have you been, Rachel?" Hannah asked, from her seat next to Quinn and across from Lily. "We miss you. We want to do karaoke and daddy hates karaoke and mom will only do it when you're around…" she said between bites.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Quinn said to her eldest daughter who just rolled her eyes.

"I've just been a little busy," Rachel said, making brief eye contact with Quinn and then briefer eye contact with Santana, who apparently _had _been listening in on their conversation at the other end of the table. "But your mom and I talked about going to Griffith Park tomorrow afternoon? Maybe we can go up to the observatory?" Hannah nodded. Rachel smiled at Quinn.

"And after dinner, tomorrow," Quinn said, resting her hand upon Hannah's head, "I bet Rach would want to do a little karaoke if you girls are good at the park and agree to be…agreeable…about your school day bedtime, despite the fact that Rachel is over." She looked over at Lily who nodded, and then Hannah, who nodded, reluctantly.

"So," Santana said, from across the table, interrupting everyone from their previous conversations. "Our little ingénue, Miss Berry over here, had quite the interesting night." Santana said. Rachel turned bright red as the table turned their attention over to Santana. "She found a little dancer, who, apparently, looked a little like Jack, Rachel's college girlfriend." Quinn's head shot up, looking for Rachel's eyes, but they stayed plastered to her food. "Not that I blame her…she was adorable…you know…perfect body, blond hair, piercing eyes."

"Wow, Rach," Mercedes said, "really sticking to your type, huh?"

"I don't know what you mean," Rachel said, not looking up from her food.

"Well there was Jack, and then there was that girl you were in _Nine_ with, and that girl you were in _A Chorus Line _with, and that one you met on that pilot you did a few years back…to be honest I don't think I could pick them all out in a line up." James nodded.

"To be honest, now every time I _meet _a blond with hazel eyes the first thing that crosses my mind is that I should introduce her to Rachel…" James said.

"Okay, enough about me, can we talk about the fact that Santana _cried _because she flirted with a stripper?" Rachel snapped.

"A stripper whose phone number _you _now have, might I add." Santana added quickly. Brittany rested her hand on Santana's, in an attempt to signal to her that she had said enough.

"What?" Santana asked. "It was impressive, I'm just saying…"

"Totally impressive," Puck said, finally raising his head from his hands. There was a brief awkwardness at the table before everyone resumed their small conversations.

* * *

"You never told me about Jack…" Quinn said, quietly, glancing over at her husband and seeing that he was in an intense conversation with Santana about how the team was shaping up this year. "Or any of those other girls…" she said, not raising her voice and shifting her youngest daughter on her lap.

"It never came up," Rachel said, simply.

"That you're gay?" Quinn replied, incredulously.

"I'm not gay, Quinn." Rachel said quietly, aware of the fact that Lily and Hannah were intently watching Rachel and their mother interact. "On occasion I date women…it's not a big deal."

"I just wished you had told me."

"Again, Quinn, it just never came up." Quinn looked down at her food.

"You want some fruit, baby?" Quinn asked Harper who was sitting on her lap. Harper nodded and Quinn grabbed the fruit salad and piled it onto her daughter's plate, intentionally not looking up from the table. Rachel grabbed the bowl from Quinn.

"You want some fruit, Lily?" Rachel asked, piling fruit on Lily's plate, who just shrugged.

"Why are you being so weird about this?" Rachel hissed at Quinn across the table. "I mean, your best friends are _lesbians_, I'd think you'd be more open-minded."

"It's not about you being bisexual, or whatever it is that you are, Rach," Quinn said. " it's about the amount of time we've spent together and _you _leaving out this huge detail of your life!"

"It's not that huge, Quinn!" Rachel whispered across the table. "It's 2024! Don't Ask Don't Tell was repealed when we were in High School, The Defense of Marriage Act only like a year later, and we've had gay marriage in all fifty states for like eight years. In California since 2012! You're the one making a big deal out of this!" They sat in silence for a moment.

"I just didn't know, Rach. I'm just surprised."

"It's fine," Rachel said. She decided to pull a Quinn and topped off her Mimosa.

* * *

Everyone was out of their house by three, much to Santana's relief. She and Brittany cleaned the house and then played with their children. They were too tired to cook, so they ordered Thai food in and watched the original _101 Dalmations_, unfortunately renewing Brittany's insistence that they weren't really a family until they had a dog. Santana rolled her eyes. Apparently the marriage certificate and the mortgage in both their names, the jointly filed taxes and the children with both their names on the birth certificate were not enough. They needed an animal. They crawled into bed around nine that night, and didn't even have sex, a fact that Santana would loathe anyone outside of Brittany to know. It was just so…lame.

"Hey, Britt?" Santana said into her wife's collarbone as they fell asleep.

"Mmhmm?" Brittany mumbled.

"You know that dancer that Rachel danced with last night?"

"Mmhmm?"

"You know how Rachel said she reminded her of Jack"

"Yeah, San, what's your point? I'm tired…"

"Did she remind you a little of Quinn, too?"

"I guess so." Brittany said. "Her hair was longer, but she kind of had Quinn's eyes. Although not nearly as pretty. Quinn has really pretty eyes."

"Yeah," Santana said, as she fell asleep in her wife's arms.

"Why?" Brittany asked.

"I don't know," Santana said, holding tighter onto Brittany. "I was just thinking." She kissed her wife's collarbone and felt herself falling asleep.

* * *

Quinn was restless. Justin had fallen soundly asleep around eleven but Quinn was distracted and couldn't seem to calm her mind down enough to actually get some rest. She slipped out of her bed and walked down to the kitchen.

**_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_**

_Sorry I was weird today. I'm_

_always a little weird when Justin_

_first comes home._

_Sent: Sunday, July 11, 12:15am_

**_Rachel Berry:_**

_No worries. Today was weird._

_Excited for tomorrow though _

_Sent: Sunday, July 11, 12:18am_

**_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_**

_Me too __ I'll call as soon_

_as Justin leaves. Sweet dreams_

_Rach._

_Sent: Sunday, July 11, 12:20am_

Rachel had been sitting in her empty living room watching the end of Saturday Night Live when she and Quinn started texting. She still hadn't finished furnishing her three bedroom apartment, so she spent most of her time sitting on the couch in her living room, looking at the flat screen TV. The only decorations she had were a few photographs that sat on the mantle and a few on her fridge, thanks to some magnets Harper had given her. She walked passed the mantle that held pictures of her dads, a few of her after her first couple Broadway shows, and a picture of the entire Glee Club after they won National's their senior year. She walked into the kitchen to fill a glass with water, smiling at a photographs hanging on the fridge. It was from a few weeks earlier, taken by Brittany and Santana, while they all picnicked at Barnsdale Art Park near Brittany and Santana's house. Quinn and Rachel were sitting in the middle of the blanket, big smiles on both of their faces. Harper was in Quinn's lap, holding a mini-stuffed duck Brittany had given her, Hannah was at Quinn's side, and Lily was hugging Rachel with one arm, her skateboard with another, giving Rachel a kiss on the cheek. Her water glass began to spill on her hand. Rachel walked upstairs and crawled into bed.

_**Rachel Berry:**  
You too._

_Goodnight._

_Sent: Sunday, July 11, 12:30am_


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **So, as usual, this chapter was getting epically long, so I thought I'd break it into pieces and give you the beginning right now. To be honest, it's my least favorite thing I've ever written, but, you know, it is what it is. The next part will probably be up in the next couple of days. And as always, I can't thank you guys enough for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it so much :)

* * *

"Your kids are a handful, Quinn."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Quinn said. Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I have never, _ever_, not even for a moment, in my thirty years on this earth sympathized with Santana Pierce-Lopez, until today at the park."

"Not even when she was all sad and moping around in love with Brittany in high school?"

"No, she should have just told her. Everyone else knew that Santana was in love with Brittany."

"Not even when Brittany's parents didn't take it so well?"

"Maybe, but mostly I felt bad for Brittany." Rachel said. "And don't try to change the subject. This is about your children."

"You brought up Santana." Quinn pointed out.

"Just to make a point," Rachel said, "I finally understand her…difficulty…when she and Brittany baby-sit."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Quinn said, smirking at Rachel across the kitchen island.

"I need a big glass of wine and an ice pack." Rachel said.

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"I need the wine to calm my nerves and the ice pack to reduce the swelling in my eye, Quinn Fabray!" Rachel said, exasperated. "You know Baz is going to kill you if we have to halt production for another day, because _your_ child gives out black eyes like it's her business…"

"Whatever…you know that everyone knows that Santana Lopez is my best friend and therefore no one can mess with me because everyone is too scared of her."

"I just truly find that hard to believe after seeing her Friday night…" Rachel said. Quinn laughed and pulled two wine glasses off of a shelf.

"You were finally allowed into an intimate circle of Santana Lopez around one Miss Brittany Pierce," Quinn explained, picking a bottle of wine from the wine cabinet. "Let me guess, she looked at, or worse, flirted with, some girl, and was turned into some blubbering, sad ball of confusion?" Rachel looked at Quinn confused that she knew _exactly_ what had happened, but nodded nonetheless. "You see, the thing to know about Santana is that Brittany is her Achilles heal. Santana Pierce-Lopez made Darren Aronofsky cry. She had creative control on James Cameron's latest movie. Leonardo DiCaprio is afraid to work with her, Angelina Jolie won't work unless Santana is involved in the picture, and Meryl Streep thanked her during her lifetime achievement award at the Oscars a few years ago. Because none of these people know Brittany Pierce-Lopez. You've just been inducted into the small group who knows that Santana cracks like a little baby when it comes to her wife. You should be proud!" Quinn handed a glass of wine to Rachel.

"I don't know if I want that kind of power."

"Too late, you have to deal with it." Quinn said, laughing.

"Give me that ice pack." Rachel said. Quinn held it close to her chest.

"Let's go outside. It's too beautiful tonight to waste it in here." Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and led her to the backyard. Rachel assumed they would sit on the patio, but Quinn led her past the patio and past the pool and into an open space between some palm trees. Quinn gently led Rachel onto the ground.

"What are we doing?" Rachel asked, holding her knees and looking at Quinn who had laid down I the grass with the ice pack in her hand.

"Lay down," Quinn said, gently pulling Rachel down with her hand. "Sometimes, when I've had a particularly difficult day, I like to lay out here, as far away from the lights of the house as possible." Quinn said. She still had her right hand in Rachel's and she rolled over for a second to place the ice pack on the eye her daughter had blackened. "It kind of reminds me of Lima, you know? I mean…there are no stars out here, but it's kind of nice to pretend that I can see them, and like I'm a little kid looking at the constellations and chasing fireflies." Rachel held the ice pack close to her head, feeling far too aware of the fact that Quinn was still gripping her hand tightly. They lay in silence for a moment, both wishing for some stars to appear in the polluted Los Angeles sky. "It's too hard to talk this way though," Quinn said, laughing, turning to look at Rachel. "And more importantly, it's too hard to drink. I just wanted to show you." She pulled Rachel up and led her over to the bench swing. They sat next to each other, sipping on their wine. Quinn had her knees propped up to her chest and was facing Rachel who sat straight ahead, her legs swinging the bench in a steady rhythm. She lifted her hand and inspected the bruise forming above Rachel's eye.

"You know, I'm okay with my daughter taking after her father and being a football player, but…she really doesn't have his arm." Quinn laughed, as she gently ran her hand across the rapidly darkening spot above Rachel's eye. Rachel turned to face Quinn.

"Again, like I said, I have felt sympathy for Santana for the first time." Rachel sipped on her wine, trying to avoid eye contact with Quinn. It was difficult seeing as Quinn's hand was still gently on the bruise that she seemed to be examining.

"I don't think it's going to be that bad, Rach," Quinn said, still lightly touching Rachel's bruise. Rachel looked down at her feet. "What's wrong?" Quinn asked.

"Nothing's wrong." Rachel said. Quinn ran her hand through Rachel's hair, again resting it on that spot between her chin and cheek where her hand seemed to fit so perfectly.

"You're lying," Quinn said.

"Yeah," Rachel said, still not looking up at Quinn.

"So tell me, what's wrong? That's what best friends are for, right? I don't care that we're thirty…we still need friends…"

"I don't know…I guess I just feel like I missed out on something along the way. And now, I'm thirty, and I have everything I could have dreamed of when I was sixteen, but the cost is loneliness."

"You have me." Quinn said softly.

"It's not the same thing. You know that."

"Well, I kind of have the opposite problem." Rachel looked up at Quinn.

"What do you mean?"

"You know I double majored in theater and English in college?" Rachel shook her head. "I loved it. You know, I got to harness all that bitchiness into acting and all of that lying to my various boyfriends into storytelling. I had plans, you know, beyond the husband and the family…I was going to pull a Yentl, eventually," Quinn said. Rachel's head flew back with laughter at this declaration. "Seriously, Rach!"

"I have no idea what you mean…you were going to dress like a boy so you could study the Talmud?" Rachel asked. Quinn laughed.

"No, I mean, more like I was going to be such a superstar that I would write a book, have it optioned into a movie, weasel my way into creative control, and, like your idol Barbra, when that movie hit the big screen it would be written by Quinn Fabray, based on a story by Quinn Fabray, starring Quinn Fabray, and produced and directed by, one, Quinn Fabray."

"Those are big dreams, Q." They sat in the kind of comfortable silence again for awhile. Rachel chuckled silently to herself.

"Why are you laughing, Rach?" Quinn asked.

"Because everyone prepares you that being a teenager is going to be difficult, and confusing, and rough. But no one ever says that it's really just preparation for the rest of your life." Quinn thought about this for a minute.

"I have no more idea of who I am today than when I was sixteen."

"Exactly."

"We'll figure it out one day, Rach."

"You think?"

"Definitely. Let's go to bed." They walked into the house, and, as usual, paused at the top of the stairs when Rachel was going to go right to the guest bedroom and Quinn was going to go left to the master bedroom.

"You know, Rach, you can be the Mandy Patinkin in my Yentl…"

"Great. So I get to be the overtalented actor/singer who doesn't get to actually showcase my talents in your magnum opus."

"Exactly," Quinn said.

"I look forward to it," Rachel said. Quinn pulled Rachel in for a hug.

"Night, Rach." She subconsciously buried her head in Rachel's hair.

"Night, Q. Have beautiful dreams. I'll see you in the morning." They lingered on the stairs for a second hugging. As they pulled away, Quinn held tightly to Rachel's hand and they made the eye contact Rachel had so intensely been avoiding all day.

"Yup," Quinn said, as she finally separated from Rachel. "See you in the morning." They walked their separate ways.

Quinn's heart still felt like it was in her throat when she crawled into bed. She could hear the shower turn on in the guest bedroom down the hall.

"Get a grip on yourself, Fabray," Quinn said out loud to herself in her big, empty room. She squeezed her eyes shut ad began to count backwards from 100 in her head, like she did when she was a little kid and she had a bad dream. As long as she could stop herself from thinking, everything would be fine. As long as she could stop herself from acknowledging that something even existed that she was contemplating thinking about, everything would be fine. Everything would be fine, she thought, as she approached 0. She lay in silence again, her thoughts threatening to creep into her mind. 100 may have worked when she was ten, but she was in the big leagues now. 500, 499, 498, 497…


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone! As always, I can't thank you enough for all of your wonderful wonderful reviews, I really enjoy them. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**One Month Later**

"I have to go home, Quinn," Rachel said, finishing the last of her coffee and looking at Quinn from across the table.

"I don't understand why…" Quinn said, not looking up from the newspaper.

"Because, Quinn, I haven't been home in four days, and last time I showed up to a game night in your clothes Santana wouldn't stop making fun of me."

"Do you even have air conditioning? You're going to be miserable in this August heat without it." Quinn said. Rachel thought about this for a moment…

"No…but I at least have to pick up some clothes."

"How about this…we swing by Target to get the school supplies for the kids, then by your place and you can pick up some clothes, and then we can stay at my nice, air conditioned house with a pool."

"You just don't want to shop for school supplies by yourself!" Rachel said.

"Maybe…"Quinn smirked. "Also, I want to see where you live!"

* * *

Two hours later, a weak-willed Rachel was pushing a cart around Target, following Quinn who had three mile-long lists of school supplies the girls were going to need for the year. Quinn turned back to look at Rachel.

"Did you bring your iPhone?"

"Yeah, why?

"I need you to look stuff up for me, and doesn't the 28G iPhone know like everything?" Rachel rolled her eyes. "I just don't even _understand _half of what is on this list…like Hannah needs Fiskar scissors this year. What are Fiskar scissors? And Hannah _and _Lily need pencil crayons and I have no idea what those are either. Are they colored pencils or are they pencils made out of waxy stuff like crayons? Plus…we have to go back to that aisle with the folders…I know we already picked up folders for Harper's Kindergarten class, but when I looked back at the lists, it turns out the 1st and 3rd grade need pocket folders too…" Quinn looked sheepishly at Rachel.

"I told you to sit down and make a master list of all of their separate list's, Quinn! Did you listen? No. Did you tell me I was being ridiculous? Yes. And now, we're circling Target because Kindergarten needs a twelve pack of number two pencils, and Kindergarten needs pocket folders, and Kindergarten needs Glue Sticks, and then, lo and behold, 1st grade needs a set of number two pencils, and 1st grade needs glue sticks, and 1st grade need pocket folders. It's school supply shopping, Quinn! They need the same shit every year. Make a master list!"

"Hannah needs loose-leaf this year…that's a difference," said Quinn, her hands across her chest. And I don't think I've ever heard you curse, Rach."

"Well, I'm frustrated. Had your list said 10 pocket folders, and 3 dozen number 2 pencils, and two pairs of Fiskar scissors, we would have been done an hour ago."

"Not true. I still don't know what Fiskar scissors are…"

"THEY'RE JUST SCISSORS, QUINN! THEY'RE JUST NORMAL SCISSORS," Rachel's voice reached an ear-splitting pitch. "Fiskar is just a company that makes scissors," she said, softer now.

"Well, well, well," came a familiar voice down the aisle, "if it's not my _favorite _les-wannabee's," Santana paused. "Wannalesbians? Wannabebians? There's not really a portmanteau for that, is there? Just fighting in an aisle at Target on a Friday afternoon, are we?" Santana said, approaching them with her cart. "A little school shopping?"

"What are _you_ doing here, Santana?" Quinn asked, hands still across her chest.

"Well…my kids are _super _cute, and Brittany is making a scrapbook, so I had to get photo paper and a glue stick, hence why I'm in this aisle. And then we also needed more baby food, milk, and Brittany is out of socks again, and light bulbs, paper towels, and laundry detergent." Santana rolled her eyes at the look Rachel and Quinn were giving her. Just then her phone buzzed.  
"Also, apparently, if I can find bananas, diapers, baby powder, index cards, Ziploc bags, and this week's People magazine, it would be appreciated."

"Whipped," Quinn sung under her breath.

"Oh, fuck you, Q. See you tonight?" Santana asked, as she picked up her phone. Quinn just nodded. As Santana turned the aisle, they could still hear her talking.

"Baby, they don't _have _the socks with the little gold arrows here, I had to pick up normal socks…okay, but these are just as comfortable as the ones with the gold arrows…no…no, we got those at Nordstrom's…I think the closest one is at the Grove…okay…okay, Britt. Yeah, it's fine. Wait, wait slow down…what did you say you needed at Crate & Barrel? Okay…I'm not going to remember all this, just text me…" She said, as she finally moved out of earshot. Rachel and Quinn burst out in laughter.

* * *

"So," Rachel said as she unlocked the door to her apartment. "You can make yourself at home, I'm just going to go upstairs and pick out some clothes. It won't take me very long." Quinn nodded, as Rachel walked upstairs. Quinn walked around the apartment, examining the pictures on the mantle, looking through the DVD tower, and the piles of mail accumulated on the kitchen table. She looked at the pictures on the fridge and smiled to see that Rachel had hung the one Harper had given Rachel. Quinn opened the fridge.

"RACH!" She yelled up the stairs.

"YEAH?" Rachel yelled back. Quinn decided that she wasn't going to yell anymore, so she walked upstairs, figuring it couldn't be that hard to find Rachel's room. The first room she looked in was completely empty, except for an elliptical and a TV screen. The second room had a desk, empty with the exception of a large iMac, a piano, and a guitar. On the piano rested manuscript paper with handwritten notes scribbled on it in pencil. She ventured towards the third floor. There was no door at the top of the stairs, just a curtain. She walked in and Rachel was shuffling through a drawer. Her bedroom was just as empty as every other room. There was a large bed in the center with a big white comforter made perfectly. Other than the dresser, that was pretty much it.

"You don't have any food in your fridge," Quinn said. Rachel screamed.

"Jesus Christ, Quinn!" She said, jumping around with her hand on her chest. "You scared the bejeezus out of me!"

"Sorry," Quinn said smirking. "It's just that you literally have _no _food in your fridge. I've never seen a fridge look so empty."

"Well, I eat most of my meals with you, or I go out."

"Yeah, but you don't even have like…condiments…who doesn't have condiments?" Rachel just shrugged. Quinn threw herself down onto the bed.

"Rach…it's hot in here. Hurry up." Rachel ignored her. "Your place is nice though. It's like a little bachelorette pad. I can totally see you bringing back the guys…and girls…here…" Rachel scoffed.

"Oh, you know me, Quinn. Always bringing back the one-night stands to my Bachelorette pad." Quinn laughed.

"Seriously, though, this place is really nice. It kind of reminds me of the apartment Brittany and Santana lived in before they bought their house."

"Well, thank you, Quinn. Well, I'm ready to go if you are. You're right, it's way too hot to stay here." They proceeded down the stairs.

* * *

Rachel rang the doorbell at Brittany and Santana's, holding Harper's hand. They'd managed, somehow, to keep their Friday game night tradition up all summer. Lily and Hannah were by Quinn's side. The door swung open.

"Hey guys!" A somewhat flustered looking Santana opened the door, holding Nico on her hip. "Britt! Q and Rach are here!" Santana yelled into the house. Lily, as usual was immediately wrapped around Santana's legs. "Come in, come in!"

"You look…nice," Quinn said, eyeing her friend skeptically. Santana was wearing jeans with boots pulled over them, and a long tank top. Her dark hair flowed down in soft curls around her shoulders. It wasn't that Santana looked particularly nice…she just looked more put together than usual for a Friday game night.

"Oh, thanks, Q. I just threw this on." She ushered the women into her house, graciously taking the bottle of wine they had brought and giving both of them a kiss on the cheek. Rachel and Quinn shared a look. Santana was definitely being weird. She walked in front of them toward the kitchen, holding Nico on her left hip and holding Lily's hand with her right. Lily was telling Santana a very animated story and Santana was nodding along. Rachel nudged Quinn. Quinn just shrugged her shoulders, figuring they'd find out soon enough. They walked into the kitchen behind Santana, who had quickly gotten to work opening the bottle of wine. Brittany held Olivia in one arm, and was pulling plates onto the counter with the other.

"Rachel!" Brittany said excitedly. Brittany gestured to the awkward blond standing next to her. "Rachel, this is Sarah, Sarah, Rachel," Sarah and Rachel shook hands.

"Sarah just started working at the firm with me, Rach," Santana said, grinning, but with a definite smirk in her eyes.

"She's from New York—" Brittany said.

"And she loves Broadway," Santana interjected.

"She actually saw you in the stage production of _Spring Awakening,_ Rachel," Brittany said.

"And she's new to LA, so we thought we'd introduce her to some of our friends," Santana said, still wearing that smirk-grin.

"And, I can even speak for myself," Sarah said, chuckling at the two overly enthusiastic women each holding a baby on their hip. "I'm Sarah," she said, extending her hand to Rachel's.

"Rachel," Rachel said nervously, shaking Sarah's hand.

"And, I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name," Sarah said, extending her hand over to Quinn.

"I think that's because _they _forgot to mention it," Quinn said, glaring at Santana. "I'm Quinn," she said, shaking Sarah's hand as well. "And the three oddly silent ones are Hannah," she said, placing her hand on Hannah's head, "Harper," she said, doing the same to Harper, "and Lily," she said, gesturing over to Lily, "is the one clinging to her Aunt S for dear life." Santana shrugged. Sarah waved at the girls.

"Lil's and I gots some catching up to do…Santana slipped into her ghetto voice, glaring at Quinn. She looked down at Lily, nudging her. Lily's eyes got wide and then she looked at her mother.

"So back on up afores I start handing out black eyes," Lily said, doing her best imitation of Santana's accent. Lily snapped her fingers across her face. Santana put her hand out for a low high five. Brittany and Quinn rolled their eyes.

"I don't know why I let you near my children…" Santana shrugged.

"You have to get them practicing the one-liners early, Q. You didn't think I could pull them out so fast in high school because of my razor sharp wit, did you? I'd been practicing since I was three…" Quinn rolled her eyes again.

"Pizza time?" She asked, hoping to change the subject and mentally preparing for a long conversation with her daughter about when it was appropriate to use Aunt S's advice and when it was not.

* * *

"I have to get these two to bed," Santana said, gesturing over to the twins who were sleeping on the carpet. Harper, Hannah, and Lily were engrossed in _Finding Nemo_ for the thousandth time. Santana looked at her wife for assistance, but chuckled to find that Brittany, as well, seemed engrossed in the movie. Rachel and Sarah were 15 minutes into a conversation about something Broadway related that Santana could care less about.

"I'll help you, S," Quinn said, jumping up and picking Nico up off the ground. Santana grabbed Olivia and they walked toward the bedroom together.

"What are you doing?" Asked Quinn quietly as she placed Nico in his crib. Santana continued to cradle the now awake Olivia close to her.

"What do you mean?" Santana asked.

"I _mean_, are you setting her up or something?"

"Well, yeah, Q, we're setting her up…" Santana said, lightly kissing the top of her daughter's head as she gently rocked her back and forth. "I mean, obviously _I _don't give a shit about Berry, but Brittany was insistent that we find her someone." Quinn looked at Santana like she was expecting more information. Santana rolled her eyes. "Brittany came to meet me for lunch with the kids a few weeks ago, but I was stuck in a meeting so she just wandered around the office. Apparently Sarah was hitting on her, which, by the way, is gross, who hits on a woman with two babies? Anyway, Brittany wouldn't let it go until I invited her over," Santana said, shrugging. "Besides, what's it to you, Q?"

"It's nothing." Quinn said, looking at her feet.

"I mean, you don't expect Berry to play house with you forever, do you?"

"Whatever, Santana," Quinn said, storming out of the room. Olivia's eyes were wide open now, while Nico peacefully slept in his crib.

"Aunty Q is crazy, isn't she?" Santana cooed in her baby voice to her daughter's bright, blue eyes.

* * *

"Anything but Catchphrase, please, for the love of God." Rachel begged.

"I don't understand," Brittany pouted. "We _always _play Catchphrase at the end of the night."

"You guys are _so _annoying during Catchphrase though," Quinn said, topping off her glass of wine.

"And we have guests," Rachel said, smiling over at Sarah.

"Actually," said Sarah, "I'd kind of like to see this…besides, I've already gotten to see so much of the famed bitchface Santana Pierce-Lopez out of her element, I can't imagine it could get much worse."

"You breathe a word of this to anyone at the office, lesbinator, and you'll be on a one way flight back to New York faster than a Billy Joel comes on in an empty Midwest bar."

"That was weak, Santana," Quinn said.

"Plus, you know Billy Joel is the third best selling solo artist in the United States." Rachel said

"We're playing Catchphrase." Santana said simply. "What Britts wants, Britts gets." Brittany smirked. "Now finish filling up your drink, Lush Housewife of Beverly Hills, stop playing with your hair, lesbian Farrah Fawcett, and stop talking," Santana said, holding her hand up at Rachel's mouth which was about to open, "Yentl. I've heard enough out of you for one lifetime. Get in the living room, I'll get the game."

"Out of the faucet and into the park!" Santana said simply, struggling to keep Brittany from seeing the game from her perch on Santana's lap.

"Richard Nixon!" Brittany yelled. The game was passed to Quinn.

"Um…this is a type of fowl…"  
"Ducks!" Brittany yelled.

"Not ducks…I don't know if these can fly…" Quinn thought for a moment. "No, they can fly, but not really well…and we eat them all the time…" Rachel scrunched up her nose. "Well not you, Rach, but the rest of us. And they're delicious when fried. And when we have a flavor in our mouth's we…" The timer on the game went off.

"Good god, Q, what was that supposed to be?" Santana asked.

"Tastes Like Chicken."

"You're terrible at this game," Santana said.

"We're awesome," Brittany said grinning.

"No," Rachel said, "you guys are just weird. Take that last one…how did Brittany get Richard Nixon from faucet and park?"

"Obvious," Brittany said, looking incredulously at Rachel. "What comes out of the faucet? Water. What do you do when you walk into a park? Open the gate. Water-gate. Watergate. Richard Nixon. Duh. He like deep throated somebody at a waterpark or whatever and had to resign. Or was it at a hotel?" Santana rolled her eyes. There was a long pause while everyone looked at them. "I was just surprised that the rest of you didn't get it." Brittany said. Santana smirked.

"Well, as exciting as that was," Quinn said, "I think it's time I get these three to bed. She gestured over to Hannah, Lily, and Harper who were asleep in front of the TV.

"I should probably get going too," Sarah said, "I told Bill I'd come in tomorrow and get some filing done," she said towards Santana.

"Working on a Saturday…that's what you get, working for a prick like Bill," Santana said. Quinn picked up Hannah, Rachel picked up Lily, and Santana went over to pick up Harper.

"I can get her, if you want," Sarah said. "I'm on my way out anyway." Santana just nodded as Sarah picked up the sleeping Harper. Brittany and Santana walked the women to the door and gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for coming, guys!" Brittany said, cheerily. Santana fought back a yawn and rested her head on Brittany's shoulder. Brittany nudged her.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, half-waving before they shut the door.

Quinn was on the passenger's side of the car, buckling Harper into her carseat. The other two were already buckled in. She strained to hear what Sarah and Rachel were talking about on the other side of the car.

"So…I had fun tonight," Sarah said.

"Me too," Rachel said. She was finding it hard not to blush when she made eye contact with Sarah. Those hazel eyes got her without fail.

"Those two are a trip," Sarah said laughing.

"I know. You have no idea."

"So…maybe we could do it again sometime?" Sarah asked, nervously. "You know, maybe get a bite to eat or something?"

"I'd like that," Rachel said, smiling. They exchanged phones to give each other their numbers. The passenger's door slammed shut, making both women jump.

"I think that's my cue that it's time to go home," Rachel said, laughing. Sarah nodded. "I'll call you sometime this week, though."

"Great," Sarah said. "Talk to you soon then." She gave Rachel a small wave as Rachel climbed into the driver's side of the car. Most of the drive home was silent, a thick awkwardness building between the two women.

"So are you going to go out with her?" Quinn finally asked.

"I think so." Rachel said. The two women didn't share any more words for the rest of the drive. They didn't speak as they brought the girls into the house and tucked them into bed, and they didn't speak when they went their separate ways to their bedrooms. Rachel heard Quinn's door slam down the hall. She threw herself down into the bed. Quinn was acting…jealous. Which was not possible, Rachel reminded herself, as she had many times during the summer, because Quinn was _straight_ and Quinn was _married._ Still…Rachel was pretty sure that Quinn was acting jealous.

"Probably just jealous that I may actually have someone else to hang out with. Or worried that she's not going to have _anyone_ to call next time Justin acts like a jerk." Rachel muttered under her breath. "It doesn't matter anyway," Rachel thought to herself. She jumped off the bed, and as she had been in the habit of doing more and more lately, got into a cold shower.

* * *

"B?" Santana nuzzled into her wife's shoulder, their fingers interlaced while they sat on the couch.

"Yeah?"

"Nevermind." They returned their attention to the channel surfing Brittany had been doing.

"B?"

"Yeah, San? What's up?"

"You don't think…I mean…this is going to sound crazy…you don't think that Q has a thing for Berry, do you?"

"She does," Brittany said, returning her attention to the channel surfing. Santana lifted her head from Brittany's shoulder, her eyes wide.

"Wait…what? Has she said something to you?"

"No, it's painfully obvious though. I'm surprised Sarah made it out of here without bodily injury."

"That worries me," Santana said.

"Quinn would never do anything. I mean, she's married and she has three kids and she loves Justin. I think it's just a harmless crush."

"What if it's not?" Santana's eyes narrowed as they did when she was thinking. "Quinn doesn't always make the most rational decisions when it comes to love. I mean, we are talking about the woman who cheated on Finn and then told him he was the father of her baby. That's pretty big."

"She was a kid, San. When we were that age you told me you were only making out with me because you were a lizard and you needed something warm beneath you or you couldn't digest your food…"  
"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Santana said. Brittany just smirked.

"And I was making out with anyone with lips," Santana scrunched her nose up, "and still believed in Santa Clause, I couldn't read a recipe…"

"You thought dolphins were gay sharks…"

"Dolphins _are _gay sharks, Santana." Santana smirked and Brittany looked annoyed. "I'm not arguing about this with you again…the point is, we've all changed."

"People do crazy things for love though, B. Like, if we hadn't gotten together in high school and then met again at 30, I don't think anything would stop me from getting you back." Brittany kissed the top of Santana's head.

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard."

"That I'd do anything to get you back?"

"No…that was cute," Brittany giggled. "The idea of us spending a whole 12 years not together."

"It would never happen, B." Brittany nodded. "But that's why it makes me nervous. I just hope Q doesn't make any rash decisions that she's going to regret. She's already hurting so much…" Brittany nodded.

"I think it's just an innocent schoolgirl crush and she'll be over it before she even realizes that she was…under it." Santana laughed.

"I hope so."

"You're such a softie, San," Brittany said, laughing.

"You tell anyone and I'll…I'll…" Brittany rolled her eyes.

"You'll tickle me to death? Kiss me to death?" She said teasingly into Santana's neck. Santana flipped Brittany over so that she was lying flat on the couch. Santana propped herself above her with her leg between Brittany's. She leaned into Brittany's neck so that her lips gently grazed her skin.

"Something like that," she whispered with a smirk, laying a light trail of kisses down Brittany's neck and collarbone. Brittany let out a small moan as Santana inadvertently rocked her hips forward while she eased Brittany out of her shirt. Santana smirked again as she placed a line of kisses down the middle of Brittany's body, in between her breasts, down to her belly button. She climbed back up so she was face to face with her wife and placed a long, soft kiss on her lips.

"We never would have survived 12 years." Santana said. Brittany shook her head and let out another small moan as Santana continued to cover her with kisses.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Hello lovelies! I thought I'd give you the next chapter right away, after the beauty that was Blame It On the Alcohol. Just to warn you, this chapter is probably the most graphic I've ever written (although it's still not that bad) and I blame the body shots from last night. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and, as always, I love your reviews, they make me so happy!

* * *

Santana looked up from the contract she was reading at the light knock on the door to her office.

"Come in!" She yelled. Her assistant popped her head in the door.

"Quinn Fabray-Scott is here. You two had lunch plans?"

"Shit, I forgot. Send her in." Quinn walked through the door. She was in a low cut flower print dress that fell just above her knees and it looked like she just got her hair done; it hung in perfect curls and a clip kept it out of her face. She was wearing strappy sandals that must have been four inches high.

"Damn, Q, are we going somewhere fancy? Or did you just get dressed up for me, because I hate to break it to you, but I'm happily married," Santana smirked, pointing at her ring finger. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I was your maid-of-honor, remember?"

"Details…seriously though, Q, why are you so dressed up? Is Justin home or something?" Santana asked as she got up from her desk and gabbed her purse.

"Honestly, I'm not dressed up for any reason. Sometimes a girl just likes to look good, you know? I'm taking the girls on a sleepover, and then Rach is coming over to get ready for her date with Sarah. Wild plans, huh?"

"Their date is tonight?" Santana asked as they walked down the hall towards the elevator. Quinn just nodded. "Speaking of…" Sarah approached the two women, and joined them waiting for the elevator.

"Hey Santana, Quinn!" Sarah said, excitement clear in her voice.

"Sarah," Quinn said, not even looking up to acknowledge her as the three women walked into the elevator.

"I hear the big date is tonight?" Santana said, smirking. "Where are you guys going to go?" Sarah smiled.

"I was thinking Elf, or Cru…I'm picking up lunch at Real Food Daily right now, and as much as I love it, I don't know if I could eat it twice in one day," Sarah laughed.

"You're a vegan too, right?" Santana asked.

"Yeah," Sarah said. Thankfully the elevator doors opened so Santana didn't have to make anymore small talk.

"Well, enjoy your lunch!" Santana said as they walked in opposite directions toward their cars. Quinn smirked as Santana opened the car door for her.

"You've turned into such a lesbian, Santana," Quinn said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Aviator sunglasses. Power suit. You just opened my car door for me."

"I have to wear suits for work, it's polite to open doors for people, and I look hot in aviators." Quinn rolled her eyes. They sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the drive on a pretty Los Angeles day.

"I like convertibles," Quinn said simply as they drove down Sunset. Santana nodded. "What inspired you to bring the beloved Beemer out again? I don't think I've seen you in anything other than your 'mom' SUV since the babies were born…" Santana rolled her eyes.

"It's a beautiful day, Q, and it's like you said about dressing up today…sometimes a girl needs to ditch the SUV and take out the sexy BMW of her youth." Santana shrugged.

"Such a lesbian," Quinn laughed. Santana scowled at her.

"Although…the things B and I did in this car back in the day…"

"Enough!" Quinn said. "I do not want to be regaled with tales of your sex life anymore now than I did when you bought this car at 25."

"Just sayin…"

* * *

"So…when does Justin get home next?" Santana asked between bites at lunch.

"No idea…I was hoping for Labor Day, but it looks like that's not going to happen…" They sat in silence for awhile, eating their food. "So, how's Brittany's new gig going?" Quinn asked, happy to change the subject.

"Good, I think. It's a short-term thing, but I think she's happy to be choreographing and dancing again. 21 months is a long time for her to not be dancing." Quinn nodded. They ate in silence again.

"What are you doing for Labor Day weekend?" Quinn asked Santana.

"I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, Rachel and I were thinking that it would be fun if the four of us went up to my place in Big Bear." Quinn said. It took all of Santana's willpower not to roll her eyes, smirk, or worse, do both at the same time. "I think we all deserve a vacation from our children…"

"That's exactly how I want to spend my three day weekend…in a secluded cabin in the woods with Berry."

"One, Santana, you know it's not a cabin, it's a three bedroom house on a lake with a hot tub. Two, don't let your pretend hatred for Rachel keep you from enjoying a lovely weekend getaway…" Santana rolled her eyes.

"My Aunt Rita did offer to take the kids for us if we needed a getaway…" Santana thought out loud.

"And you and Britt haven't been up there in forever. We've put a lot of work into it. It would be really fun."

"Let me talk to Britt and Rita about it, and we'll see, Q."

They were back in Santana's office to double check Santana's calendar and make sure she was free Labor Day weekend.

"It looks like it will work out, Q, I just have to talk to Brittany and Rita. I'll give you a call tonight or tomorrow."

"Sounds good, San," Quinn said as she headed out the door. Just as she was about to leave she popped her head back in, "Oh, and San?" Quinn asked. Santana looked up from the email she was reading. "Nice duck hair clip." Quinn smirked and Santana turned red, as Quinn shut the door.

"Dammit, Brittany," Santana said to herself as she took the duck clip out of her hair.

_**SanyBear:**_

_Dammit, Britt! I forgot_

_about the duck clip in _

_my hair and I've been_

_wearing it all day!_

_**Sent: Thursday, August 17, 2:15pm**_

_**Wifey:**_

_:) But ducky looks so_

_cute in your hair, San._

_I bet everyone at work_

_agrees._

_**Sent: Thursday, August 17, 2:20pm**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Rachel. Literally everything you've tried on so far looks exactly the same to me." Quinn said as Rachel put on her third dress.

"But which one do you like the most?" Rachel said.

"You don't understand. I can't differentiate between them. They look exactly the same."  
"I hate you."

"No you don't." Quinn smirked as she said this, noting Rachel's small smile. "Look, we've narrowed it down to three identical outfits, why don't I do your hair and then you can go home, since you told her to pick you up at your place." Rachel simply nodded. Quinn began to flat iron her hair.

"I thought I was going to wear it in curls tonight?" Rachel asked as Quinn gently ran the iron through her hair.

"You are. But since you did such a poor job blow drying your hair, it's not quite straight, and I can't give you fake, perfect curls without giving you fake, straight hair, first." Quinn said smiling. They sat in silence while Quinn set about making her hair look perfect.

* * *

"It's so weird being back at work," Brittany said as she shut the door to the babies' room. "I'm having trouble getting used to it."

"Rough day?" Santana asked, grabbing on to her wife's hand as they walked into the living room.

"No, my day was fine, it's just still adjusting." They settled into the couch. Santana turned on the TV, leaning forward, and Brittany leaned back with her knees to her chest, trailing patterns on Santana's back.

"I had lunch with Q today," Santana said, after they gave up on the television.

"Oh yeah, how did that go?" Brittany asked.

"It was nice…she was super dressed up, which was weird." Brittany simply nodded. "She invited us to go to Big Bear for Labor Day weekend with her and Rachel," Santana said casually. Santana groaned internally as she saw her wife's eyes light up.

"We have to go!" Brittany said excitedly. "We have to go! We seriously have to go, San!" She clapped her hands and bounced up and down on the couch.

"Do you really want to spend three whole days with Berry? Plus, I'm not sure we should be encouraging this…unusual…friendship they have at the moment." Brittany began to pout. "Please don't do that, babe. I just want you to really think about it. Plus, we'd be apart from Nico and Olivia for three whole days."

"The best times always happen in Big Bear." Brittany said. Santana raised her eyebrow. "Remember the first time we went, right after Justin and Quinn bought their house? The last night we were there we got drunk and decided to do a skinny-dipping polar bear swim? That was super fun."

"And then you got mad at Justin because there were no _actual_ Polar Bears in the lake. He told you that _you _were the Polar Bear and so you chased him down, all the way into the supposedly empty neighbor's house where you both were arrested for breaking and entering, indecent exposure, and public drunkenness?"

"We were never actually charged with anything," Brittany said meekly. "And we got to see Quinn's boobs…"

"Not really helping your case here, Britt."

"Okay, how about when the two of us went up right after we got engaged? In the hot tub…" Santana smirked.

"That was a good night," Santana said, fondly.

"That was an amazing night, San…" They both sat in silence, reminiscing. "Or a few years ago when Justin became obsessed with making the perfect Mojito and after three pitchers Quinn wanted us to have a foursome to consummate our friendship relationship…"

"Okay, _so _not helping, Britt. You _do_ remember that we would be going with Berry this time?"

"You didn't let me finish! You said that no one gets to touch your wife except you, and then you two wrestled about it!" A small smile formed on Santana's lips.

"I totally kicked her ass…" Santana said.

"You did…and it was totally hot," Brittany said, nibbling on Santana's ear. She pushed Santana onto her back, her head propped up on the chair of the couch. She knelt over her, gently sucking on her neck and her collarbone.

"I'll think about it," Santana mumbled out as Brittany ground her hips down. Brittany quickly took her shirt off and then her bra. Santana leaned forward towards her wife but Brittany just waved a finger at her. Before Santana had a chance to protest, Brittany had unbuttoned her own pants and slipped he hand underneath her panties.

"NO!" Santana yelled, trying to get at Brittany again. "You _can't_ do this to me Brit, please." Santana whined. "Please, B…" Brittany bit her lip. "I'm not going to cave, I'm just not going to look at you." Santana crossed her arms indignantly and tightly shut her eyes. It worked for a 30 seconds, before Brittany's moans grew louder, and the grinding of her hips against Santana's intensified. Santana kept her eyes shut, but bit her lip at the sound of Brittany's hand moving faster. She groaned when Brittany ground even harder into Santana. This was unbearable.

"Jesus, Britt," Santana said, opening her eyes, "I'll do it, I'll do anything you want to, please, just let me touch you."

"You promise…we can go…" Brittany tried to get out…her plan may have backfired a bit because she really was enjoying this.

"I promise baby, we'll go. Anything you want goes, baby, please," Brittany smiled. Santana sounded so desperate that Brittany wouldn't have been surprised if she broke out in tears.

"Any...thing?" Brittany asked, unable to stop the moan that came out in the middle of the word.

"Sweet Jesus, Brittany. Anything in the world."

Brittany squealed and pounced on Santana. Santana began ferociously kissing her and Brittany didn't waste anytime picking Santana up off the couch. Santana wrapped her legs around Brittany's waist and they didn't stop kissing the whole way to their bedroom.

* * *

"Have you been here before?" Rachel asked Sarah as they looked over the menu at Cru.

"I come here all the time. In my opinion, it's the best vegan food in Los Angeles," Sarah said, smiling at Rachel.

"That's saying a lot," Rachel replied, "for a city that has an unusual amount of vegan cuisine." Sarah nodded.

"I ate lunch at Real Food Daily today. It's kind of become my staple."

"Oh, they're great!" Rachel said. "Quinn and I order from there all the time…who knew cashew cheese could be so delicious?" They sat in silence, quietly sipping their wine and looking over the menu.

* * *

Quinn sat on her couch. She had been drinking less lately, something about having someone around all of the time left her with less of a need to find a way to entertain herself between the time that she put her children to bed and finally felt tired herself. Tonight, however, she was alone, and she decided that she could make herself a drink. She looked through the liquor cabinet, thinking that she wanted to do something more adventurous than her usual glass of wine. She settled on a Rose Kennedy; it didn't have too many calories and she was pretty sure it would get her drunk pretty fast since she hadn't been drinking as often as usual, especially not hard alcohol. She settled down into the couch and began to channel surf.

* * *

Sarah laughed awkwardly.

"I didn't know anyone actually liked that movie," Sarah said.

"Well, you didn't know Quinn Fabray."

"It's terrible."

"She loves it though…I think it's kind of endearing." They sat in another one of those awkward silences while they ate their food.

"So…" Rachel said, "how's your food? What did you get?"

"This is the truffled mac n' cheese. It's quinoa pasta, cashew cheese, and arugula."

"How is it?"

"Delicious. You know, one of the nice things about this place is that everything is local, so the menu changes depending on what's in season."

"Oh, that's important, you know…always want to reduce our carbon footprint…" Rachel awkwardly ate her meal.

"What did you get?"

"The corn and flax tacos."

"Oh! So you went raw! Brave of you." They sat in silence for a bit.

"So how long did you say you've been in LA?" Rachel asked.

"About six months. How about you?"

"The same. I mean, I've been out here for shorter stints at a time to record for shows I've done, auditions, and a few pilots that weren't picked up. Plus, obviously, I've known Quinn, Santana, and Brittany since we were kids, so I've been out here to see them. Well, really just Brittany and Quinn…I never would have come out here just to see Santana. But never for this long."

"Yeah, so tell me about that…Santana mentioned something about your high school Glee Club?" Rachel smiled.

"Well, we're all from a small town called Lima, Ohio. We went to middle school together, but high school was rough. Brittany, Santana, and Quinn were all cheerleaders and I was the, like, outcast singer, so I never really interacted with them until they joined the Glee Club as spies. You'd think that would have made us friends, but Santana, Quinn and I went through the same boyfriend rotation so it sort of made us enemies…"

"Hold up…Santana dated boys?" Rachel couldn't contain her laughter.

"Did Santana date boys…Santana was like the boy toy of our high school."

"I always had her pegged for a gold star lesbian."

"Definitely not," Rachel said. "I mean, everyone knew that she and Brittany were having sex by our Sophomore year. And everyone knew that they were in love by our Junior year. But, until they came out, our senior year, Brittany and Santana would pretty much give it to anyone who asked…"

"I can't picture that."

"Well, when they joined the glee club, Quinn was dating this guy Finn, I was in love with him, and Santana was dating Puck. Quinn cheated on Finn with Puck, and then Puck and I dated. Meanwhile, Quinn found out she was pregnant with Puck's kid."

"Wait…so Hannah is Noah Puckerman's kid?" Sarah said incredulously.

"Oh, you flatter us…no, we were not in high school eight years ago. Quinn and Puck gave the baby up for adoption. Beth must be 14 now. Anyway, when Finn found out the baby wasn't his, Finn and Quinn broke up. Finn and I got together and Quinn and Puck got together, but Santana continued to sleep with Puck. Then Finn and I broke up and he dated Brittany and Santana at the same time…"

"Without them knowing?"

"No, they asked him out together. This was during their high school, 'you buy us dinner, we make out in front of you,' phase."

"Oh lord," was all Sarah had to say about that.

"Then Santana took Finn's virginity, a detail Finn failed to tell me for months after we got back together. In fact, I think Santana is the one who told me…in some humiliating way, I'm sure, knowing her. Anyway, she continued to sleep with Puck, Quinn dated Sam, then Santana dated Sam. Things didn't really normalize until our senior year when Brittany and Santana finally made it official, and Quinn and I finally felt okay being single."

"That's…interesting…" Sarah said. "Quite the soap opera high school."

"Oh you have no idea," Rachel said.

"And you've all been best friends ever since?"

"No, actually. We weren't _enemies_ after that. Brittany and I ran into each other while we were home for the holidays my Sophomore year of college and I confided in her about my confusion about dating a girl. We spent that break together, whenever she wasn't with Santana, and we've been close ever since. I was her maid of honor. And Quinn stopped being mean to me, but we really weren't as close as we are now until I moved out here this summer. And Santana…well I think Santana and I tolerate each other because we have to…" Another awkward silence followed. Rachel suddenly remembered why she hated dating.

"So…what does Rachel Berry do outside of being a movie star?" Rachel smiled. This girl at least seemed to understand one thing about her—she could always talk about herself.

"Well you've seen me! Game nights, vegan dinners, it's really the whirlwind A-list lifestyle!" They both laughed. "I'm a little bit of a homebody. Lately, the perfect night for me is to order vegan take-out and watch a 1960's musical with Quinn. She pretends she hates them, but come on, who would watch them three times a week if she _actually _couldn't stand them. I've also been giving Lily some acting and singing lessons—she had the lead in the school play last year and she seems to really show some potential!"

"Who is Lily?"

"She's Quinn's middle child, I think you met her at games night," Rachel clarified.

"Oh…" Sarah said. Another awkward silence…

"So, tell me," Rachel said, "what got you into entertainment law?"

* * *

Quinn poured her third drink. She was bored. Nothing she liked on TV was on Thursday night and she was too lazy to pick out a movie. She tried Brittany and Santana, but neither of them picked up. She looked at the clock; it was 9:30, they were probably having sex. She missed having sex. She picked up the phone again and dialed her husband's number.

"Hello?" a groggy voice came through the phone.

"Hey, sexy," Quinn said, putting on her husky, sex voice.

"Quinn?" Justin asked.

"Who else?"

"Is there an emergency or something? It's 12:30 here…"

"No…I just wanted to let you know that I'm lying here naked thinking about you." Instead of feeling sexy, though, Quinn definitely felt silly. She was standing fully clothed in her kitchen pouring soda water into a cup probably already too full of vodka.

"Quinn, you know I'm training. I can't do this with you right now. It's like you think we're 19." He hung up the phone. So that, apparently, was out. Quinn threw herself down on the couch. For a fleeting moment she considered dealing with the problem herself, but as soon as her hands grazed her underwear she realized that she was far too uncomfortable with the odd places her mind strayed lately whenever she tried to get the job done on her own. She stared up at the ceiling. Tonight sucked. She would just have to drink until she passed out.

* * *

"Well, since we brought this whole bottle of wine, we might as well finish it," Sarah said, dividing the last of it into their two cups. Rachel wasn't sure she really needed any more, but Sarah was right, they had bought the bottle on their way over to the BYOB establishment and it was silly to let that last bit go to waste. They both threw back the bottom of their glasses quickly and walked toward Sarah's car.

The ride home was mostly silent. Their date had been fine, it was just that at a certain point you have nothing more to say to a stranger.

"I'll walk you to you inside," Sarah said, finding some unusually choice parking. She took Rachel's hand and they walked up to her building. They stopped at the front door.

"This was fun," Rachel said. Sarah nodded. "I'm really glad we got to do this."

"Me too," Sarah said.

"So…would you like to do this again sometime?" Rachel asked, her hand still interlaced with Sarah's.

"I would, Rachel, I really would," Sarah began. She looked at the ground. "I think you might want to deal with your issues with Quinn first, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, every story you told somehow managed to relate back to Quinn…and I just think…I'm not comfortable dating someone who clearly has strong feelings for someone else." Sarah said. Rachel, however, looked bewildered. "Rachel," Sarah said, "all you did is talk about her all night. You obviously feel something for her more than a friend."

"That's not true," Rachel said.

"Brittany's your friend. After tonight, all I know about Brittany is that she used to make out with everyone in high school and you became friends your Sophomore year of college. And she did high school glee club. I know that Quinn loves bacon, but has started eating vegan bacon on occasion, has a secret appreciation for musicals, specifically Sweet Charity and anything of the Fosse variety, she prefers green salsa to red, vanilla cake to chocolate cake, but she loves yellow cake, she has a penchant for bad Romantic Comedies and even worse Action movies but she can't tolerate movies in which the good guy gets framed, the only exception to this rule being _North by Northwest_ but only because it is so epic. She'd pick Humphrey Bogart over Cary Grant because he seems more real, although you suspect it's because she has the attitude and looks of Lauren Bacall…"

"Okay…I get the picture. But you know Quinn is straight, right?" Rachel asked, still holding Sarah's hand. Sarah nodded.

"It doesn't mean you are. And we all know we can't help who we fall for." Sarah said. "Seriously, I _did _have fun, Rachel. I just don't want to get hurt while you deal with your issues with Quinn. So call me when they're dealt with, okay?" She kissed Rachel on the cheek and walked to her car and drove off.

Rachel didn't even go into her apartment. She walked straight to her car and leaned against it. Sarah was right. On some level, Rachel had known this for a long time, but hearing it verbalized really hit home. She _had _to talk to Quinn. This whole thing between them was just going to get worse if they allowed it to continue any longer. And ultimately, Rachel wanted to be happy, and she knew she wouldn't be happy with anyone until she dealt with her weirdness with Quinn.

_**Rachel Berry:**_

_Can I come over?_

_**Sent: Thursday, August 17, 10:25pm**_

Rachel quickly hit send.

_**Quinn Fabray-Scott:**_

_Quick date? Of course._

_See you soon._

_**Sent: Thursday, August 17, 10:26pm**_

Quinn smiled as she sent the text, and then quickly reprimanded herself for doing so. Santana was right; Quinn and Rachel couldn't play house forever and she should want her friend to be happy. She couldn't help, though, wanting her friend to be happy playing house with her.

* * *

As soon as Rachel received the response she jumped in her car and headed over to Quinn's house.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn said, still in her dress from the day but barefoot now. "How was the date?"

"It was fine," Rachel said. "I mean, it was good, it was pretty good."

"You ready for some wine and a movie?" Quinn asked as they walked towards the kitchen. She was feeling a little bit unhappy with the three vodka cocktails she'd had since Rachel left for that date. Put wine on top of that, and who knew what she would do. She had to play it normal though.

"Wine would be wonderful," Rachel said, knowing in the back of her head that wine probably wouldn't be the greatest of ideas considering that she had at least two glasses of wine while she was with Sarah. She didn't care. She needed the wine if she was going to get this out. Quinn handed her a half full glass of red and Rachel finished it in one gulp. Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like another, Rach?" Quinn asked, nervous laughter in her voice. Rachel nodded. Quinn poured her another glass, full this time, and to Quinn's relief she took a normal sized sip. "So…did you want to watch something?"

"Actually, I came over here because I was hoping we could just talk." Rachel said, quickly taking another sip of wine.

"Of course," Quinn said, trying to desperately to ignore the knot that had quickly formed in her stomach.

"Do you want to go outside?" Rachel asked. Quinn simply nodded and the two exited the house and sat on the swinging bench, both facing forward, quietly swinging back and forth.

"So…" Quinn said nervously, trying to break the silence. "What did you want to talk about?" Rachel looked up at the nonexistent Los Angeles stars trying to decide where to begin.

"I'm just going to get this all out there at once," Rachel said, the pitch of her voice rising a little and speaking a mile a minute, as she had the bad habit of doing when she was nervous. She took a sip of her wine. "Sarah and I seemed to be having a great time on our date. We get along really well, we have a lot in common, and as you know, she's exactly the kind of woman I'm attracted to. Driven, loves musical theater, vegan…"

"Blond hair, hazel eyes," Quinn interjected, a little bitterly, wondering silently to herself why Rachel came over to tell her how wonderful her date had been, and if it was so wonderful why she wasn't with Sarah right now?

"Let me finish, Quinn. But I guess I may have talked about you a touch too much, and when the date was over, she told me to call her whenever I dealt with whatever was going on with you. And the truth is, Quinn, I don't know what is going on with us. I mean, I'm bisexual, but you're straight, and we spend all of this time together lately, and we feel a little like we're a family, but you already _have _a family, and I'm worried that I'm deluding myself into believing that something larger exists between us than actually does, and that in the end I'm going to get hurt because Justin will come home and you're in love with him and you'll resume your normal family life and I'll be left in the dust and I don't know if I can handle that and…I think that I may have developed some feelings or something for you and I'm so sorry and you're probably really freaked out now." Rachel said, slurring the last part of her sentence into one giant word. She took a large gulp of her wine. It took Quinn a moment to understand the last part of what Rachel had said. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.

"Thanks for telling me all that, Rach." Quinn said simply. Rachel turned in her seat so that her feet were on the bench and she was facing Quinn.

"_That's _all you have to say? Thanks for telling me? I'm sorry, Quinn, I know you don't like to talk about these things, but you're going to have to give me a little more than that." Quinn laughed until she looked up. Her eyes locked with Rachel's large, brown, sad ones and she was abruptly brought back into the seriousness of the moment. Quinn finished the last of her wine in one gulp and set it on the table in front of them,

"I…I just don't know what to say. Of course I recognize how things have gotten weird between us. I think I've spent all summer trying to pretend that things haven't, or that I haven't noticed, because I really love spending time with you, and I didn't want anything to get in the way of that. I just…I haven't felt so connected with anyone in a long time, and I didn't want confusing feelings to get in the way of that. I've been happier this summer than I've been in years, Rachel." Rachel had pulled her legs all the way up to her chest and was now resting her head upon her knees. Quinn turned so that one knee was bent at her chest and the other dangled off the bench and scooted herself closer to Rachel and lightly grasped Rachel's hands. "I know that you're right. The responsible decision right now is to see each other less, until we've dealt with whatever is going on with us." Rachel looked into Quinn's sad, hazel eyes that were now less than a foot away from her own. Suddenly everything became fuzzy. Rachel started to regret drinking all of that wine so quickly just a few minutes earlier as she began to feel its effects rolling over her body. Suddenly, all she was aware of was the feeling of Quinn's soft hands on her own, and the now familiar smell of lavender from Quinn's hair in the night breeze.

"I don't want to see you less," Rachel croaked out, in barely a whisper. She hadn't even noticed the single tears that were flowing from each eye. Quinn reached up and wiped the tears from Rachel's cheeks. They maintained eye contact as Rachel's tears continued to flow, and Quinn leaned in and gently kissed Rachel's cheekbones, moving back and forth between each one, kissing the tears away.

"I don't want to see you less either, Rachel," Quinn said into Rachel's cheek, suddenly filled with the same sense of fuzziness Rachel was currently coping with. Her hand gently cupped Rachel's other cheek. Quinn felt like it was the right thing to do, comforting her friend, but at the same time was vaguely aware of how wildly inappropriate this was. "But we have to make responsible decisions…I have to make responsible decisions," she said, still to Rachel's cheek, gently kissing it again. She had somehow managed to move so close to Rachel that her right leg was against the bench along the side of Rachel's body and Rachel's legs were now at Quinn's chest. Quinn's chest tightened, and she knew that Rachel must be able to feel the pace of her heartbeat. Rachel looked down slightly and turned her head so that her lips were pressed into Quinn's cheek.

"You're right, I know you're right, what we'll both be better off making the choice not to see each other until things have normalized again. Maybe until the weekend in Big Bear," Rachel said, each word spoken grazing along Quinn's cheek. She laced her fingers through her friends blond hair.

"Until Big Bear," Quinn repeated, running her thumb back and forth across Rachel's cheek, vaguely aware of the familiar longing that was intensifying between her legs. She kissed Rachel's cheek again. "I think I can manage not seeing you until Big Bear," she said, their foreheads pressed together, and Quinn's breath flitting across the corner of Rachel's lips. Rachel tightened her grip in Quinn's hair.

"Big Bear," Rachel repeated, her voice barely a whisper. Quinn felt her breath hitch in her throat as her nose grazed Rachel's and the slightly sweet smell of red wine entered Quinn's mouth.

"I can do that," Quinn said, "I can not see you," Quinn said, sounding as though she wasn't even aware of what she was saying as she spoke the words directly into Rachel's lips. Rachel stifled back a small moan as Quinn's lips ever so slightly grazed hers as she spoke. She knew Quinn had felt the moan, however, because her hand on Rachel's cheek stopped moving and instead gently moved Rachel's face so that their lips pressed together. They stayed there for a moment, not moving, their lips pressed together, softly yet firmly. Unlike Rachel, Quinn couldn't suppress her moan, feeling all of her frustrations from the summer releasing and when Rachel heard the low, guttural sound slip from Quinn's throat she couldn't help but tighten her grip in Quinn's hair, pushing them closer together and slipping her tongue between Quinn's lips. Their legs entangled like children playing spider on a swingset. They explored one another's lips, at once desperate and frenzied while at the same time strong and sweet. Their tongues danced together. The taste of vanilla on Rachel's lips, and their softness against her own made Quinn feel like she was going to explode, like the knot that had been growing in her stomach was actually going to come out of her chest. Rachel, now moaned into Quinn's mouth, pushing their bodies closer together so that Rachel's legs were fully wrapped around Quinn's body. Eventually, however, they had to come up for air.

"Oh my god," Rachel said, quietly, jumping up from the bench and knocking over the table that held both their wine glasses. "We can't do this. Oh my god. I have to go," Rachel said. Quinn sat, one leg still up on the bench. Rachel wasn't positive, but she was pretty sure Quinn was repeating "fuck" over and over again under her breath. Rachel ran toward the sliding door.

"Wait, Rachel!" Quinn said. Rachel stopped, her hand on the door handle. Quinn didn't turn to look at her. "Whatever just happened between us, I can't, in good faith, allow you to drive home. You're drunk and it's unsafe. Sleep in the guest bedroom, and then we'll take that break until Big Bear."

"Okay," was all Rachel said. Quinn felt her stomach tie into knots again because she was almost sure it was said through tears. She heard the sliding door open and shut and a few minutes later she could hear the shower turn on upstairs. She walked into the house and took out the bottle of vodka. In that moment, she didn't care that it was unhealthy, she didn't care what drinking by herself made her feel like. She just needed to forget. She pulled out two shot glasses. She needed to forget that she had just kissed someone other than her husband for the first time in 12 years. She poured the vodka into each glass. She needed to forget the feeling of butterflies that were attacking her stomach. She threw the first shot back. She needed to forget the feeling of Rachel's lips against her own. She took the second shot. Mostly, she needed to forget the fact that for thirty seconds outside on her porch swing, she felt like the biggest mistake she had made in over a decade was also first thing she'd done right.

* * *

"I love you, B" Santana said into her wife's disheveled blond hair.

"I love you too," Brittany mumbled into Santana's collarbone. They lay in silence, just holding each other. "You said you'd do anything I wanted, San." Brittany said.

"Well, what do you have in mind?"

"Let's have another baby." Brittany said. Santana's heart stopped.

"Can we talk about this later?"

"Santana, you promised me anything."

"And now I'm promising you, let's talk about this in Big Bear. Right now, I just want to enjoy you." Brittany smiled.

"You promise that we'll talk about it in Big Bear?"

"I promise." Santana said. Brittany fell asleep sprawled on top of Santana, a smile on her face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Thank you, thank you, a million thank you's for all your reviews. A few notes about this chapter: First, I realized that all of my stories really are in one world, so I reference some characters from other stories in here. You don't need to read the other stories to understand, but I just wanted to clarify. Second, epic body shots are still influencing my writing. Third, each day in Big Bear will be divided into a chapter, so here goes day one!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and thank you for continuing to read and review!

* * *

Quinn loved her sister the way that many people love their siblings. You love them because you grew up with them. Somehow, however, two people raised by the same parents can grow up to be so different. She hated leaving her children with her, but in this case, she really had no choice.

"So, you're going on a 'girls' retreat?" Her sister said, using air quotes, as she walked her out of the house. Quinn simply nodded. "Aren't Brittany and Santana lesbians?" Her sister asked.

"Yes," Quinn said, nodding, "and if you remember correctly from homophobia 101, lesbians are homosexual females. Hence our ability to have a girls' weekend. They are still females, just females who sleep with each other." Her sister rolled her eyes. "Just don't let anything happen to my kids, okay?" Quinn said and drove off.

* * *

Rachel wasn't ready when she got Quinn's text that she was turning on to her street. Rachel glanced at the clock, it read 3:15, meaning she had a little less than 5 minutes to be outside because she knew Quinn hated parking at her place. She had packed her luggage the night before, knowing that she was going to be panicked about seeing Quinn for the first time in two weeks. She looked in the mirror and the curling iron through her hair once more. She looked at herself in the eye.

"You can do this," she said aloud to her reflection. "You are an _actress_, you can say anything you want and make it sound believable, Rachel Berry. This should be a piece of cake, because at least what you're saying this time is true." Rachel reapplied her lip gloss. "Plus you look amazing," she said to her reflection. She silently went over the speech she had prepared in her head. She just hoped that she got to speak first. She glanced at the clock, it read 3:25. She quickly unplugged the hair curler and shut the lights. Great, the weekend hadn't even begun, but Quinn was already going to be mad that she was late. She ran down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk in front of her building. Much to her surprise, Quinn was not waiting like she had thought. She dug into her pocket for her phone, expecting to find a slew of angry text messages, but instead just one text from Sarah. Rachel had asked her to give her a second chance, and she had reluctantly agreed. They had gone out on two surprisingly nice, and intentionally Quinn free, dates in the last two weeks. Rachel suspected that Sarah wasn't the happiest about her going on this trip, but seemed to be giving Rachel the benefit of the doubt.

_**Sarah Williams:**_

_Hey, you. Hope you have fun _

_on your trip, although I'm_

_not gonna lie, we'll miss you at_

_Roller Derby. ;) Tell everyone hi!_

_**Sent Friday, September 5 3:30pm**_

As Rachel looked up from her phone, Quinn pulled up against the curb.

"You said you were on my street 15 minutes ago," Rachel pointed out, annoyed, as she threw her bag in the trunk and climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Well, you're always late for things like this, Rachel, and there's never any parking on your street so I thought that this made the most sense." Quinn defended.

"Lying made the most sense?" Rachel asked. Quinn shrugged. They sat in silence.

"Your hair looks nice," Quinn said.

"Thanks. I did your trick—flat iron, then curl." Rachel replied. Quinn smiled. They continued to sit in silence.

"Are you sure you're okay that we're still going on this trip?" Quinn asked.

"Of course," Rachel said quickly. "Are you okay?"

"Definitely," Quinn said, even faster than Rachel.

"This is going to be fun. I think we just needed a couple of weeks to get our heads back on straight. We were just hanging out too much and it got confusing. I'm really glad we've gotten to be such good friends, Quinn, but what happened was a mistake, and borne out of alcohol and a weird codependency issue." Rachel said. It wasn't exactly her speech, but at least she got the gist of it out.

"Definitely. It was just unhealthy codependency." Quinn said.

"Definitely," Rachel said. The rest of the ride to Rita's was silent.

* * *

When they pulled in front of Rita's house, Brittany was juggling a car seat and two diaper bags on the front lawn. Quinn honked at her and Brittany jumped and dropped everything on the ground. She came over to the car.

"You need help with all that stuff?" Quinn asked Brittany. Brittany shook her head.

"San's already inside with the babies. This is the third trip I've made for their stuff while San goes over the routine with Rita….she's not handling this so well…" Brittany said, trailing off.

"You're sure you don't need help, B?"

"No, anymore people will probably just stress her out. I think it will only be another five minutes. Santana has already been lecturing her for 20, I'm just going to drop the bags off and then we can go." Quinn nodded and Brittany gathered the bags and went into the house.

* * *

Five minutes of silence passed and Brittany and Santana were still not back. Quinn had fiddled with the radio for awhile before giving up with a groan.

"Should we go in there and get them?" Rachel asked.

"No, Brittany's probably right. If Santana's having a freak out, we'll probably make it worse." They continued to sit in silence.

"So…what have you been up to?" Rachel finally asked.

"The usual," Quinn said. "The kids are back in school. Harper had her first day at Kindergarten, which was obviously, sad and exciting all at once."

"I wish I had been there!" Rachel said genuinely, but immediately regretted it. Quinn grinned over at her.

"You should have been there! She wore that silly dress you bought her with the ponies on it. She insisted," Quinn chuckled. "You know Harper though, Ms. Independent. She ran in without a second look at boring mom."

"I'm sure it was hard for her too, Quinn," Rachel said softly. They sat in silence for a moment.

"What have you been up to?"

"I've spent a lot of time on set…we're in the home stretch, so it's been busy. A lot of ADR, you know, since it's a musical. Other than that not much…I had dinner with Mercedes and James and it sounds like they've decided to try to start a family."

"That's great," Quinn said. Rachel nodded.

"Had dinner with Brittany and Santana once. I went out with Sarah a couple of times…"

"Oh…" Quinn said. There was a brief pause. "What did you guys do?"

"We had dinner at Cru one night and then saw the Derby Dolls, and last Saturday we went to a screening at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery." Rachel said. Quinn's smile was a little sad, or a little nostalgic, Rachel couldn't figure out which.

"I love those. Brittany, Santana, Justin and I used to always go. It's one of my favorite things to do in LA. Sweet Charity was playing last Saturday, right?"

"Yeah," Rachel said, with a question in her voice that Quinn picked up on.

"It's one of my favorite movies, and it's probably the only musical I've ever seen without you," Quinn said.

"Really?" Rachel asked. "You like Sweet Charity?" Rachel asked. Quinn shrugged.

"Well, I wish I could say it was for some intellectual reason, like a love of Shirley MacLaine, or an obsession with Fellini, or an attempt to learn some Fosse. But, alas, it is born out of a love for Beyonce." Quinn admitted.

"Oh. My. God." Rachel said. Quinn looked at her skeptically. "You have _got _to be the first person I've ever met who is aware that Beyonce's "Get Me Bodied" video is based on the "Rich Man's Frug" from Sweet Charity." Rachel looked flabbergasted at her friend.

"What can I say…" Quinn shrugged again. "I really love Beyonce."

"I mean…she's a performing genius," Rachel agreed. They both laughed. Things weren't totally back to normal, but at least there weren't anymore awkward silences as they sat in the car.

* * *

"We've never left them for this amount of time before," Santana said, holding tightly to both of her children in the foyer of her Aunt Rita's house. "Did I leave you all the contact numbers you can reach us at?" Rita nodded.

"You gave me your cell, Brittany's cell, Rachel's cell and Quinn's cell, the landline at the house, as well as the number for the Big Bear Police and Fire Departments." Santana nodded.

"And the pediatricians phone number?"

"Have it."

"And you know they're teething so you have the teething rings and those weird teething bars, right?" Santana nuzzled her face into her son's head.

"Yes, Santana."

"And Olivia's favorite duck? And you know the rain machine settings?"

"Santana, I'm pretty sure that everything is in this 15 page guide you gave me and then read through with me for thirty minutes," Rita said, holding up a stapled and laminated packet that Santana had given her. "You know, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of children. I have two of my own."

"I seem to remember a summer where you were in charge of me and Brittany that makes me doubt my faith in your childrearing abilities, Rita."

"Oh come on, Peep. You were 17 years old, not 14 months. I'm obviously not going to take the babies to a Pride Parade. Besides, Pride was like two months ago," Rita said, smirking. Brittany shot Rita a look.

"Not helping," she mouthed to her. Rita smirked that signature Lopez smirk. "Baby," Brittany said to Santana, looking into her wife's eyes. "They're going to be fine. They're not made of porcelain, and Rita is completely capable of taking care of them. I promise you, they will be fine, and if anything happens, which it won't, Rita has about 15 million ways of getting in touch with us okay?" Santana nodded, nuzzling her head into Olivia. "Now, it's time we go take care of _us_," Brittany said, kissing Santana on the cheek and taking Olivia from her and handing her to Rita, and then doing the same with Nico. She held tightly to Santana's hand.

"Thanks so much, Rita," Santana finally said. Rita simply nodded. "And you know that your mama and mami love you so much and we'll be back so soon and we will miss you so much." Rita rolled her eyes at Brittany who laughed out loud.

"Time to go, San," Brittany said, lightly kissing both of her children on the cheek. "And thanks Rita, see you Monday!" Brittany said as she dragged Santana out the door, who was still trying to tell the twins how much she loved them.

* * *

Brittany and Santana climbed into Quinn's car.

"You know you've been gone for 37 minutes?" Quinn said.

"You said, 5 minutes, just gonna drop the bags off then we can go." Rachel said. Santana didn't say anything, just crossed her arms and looked out the window.

"It would have been 5 minutes," Brittany said, "if San hadn't made a _laminated, _15 page guide on how to take care of twins." Santana glared at Brittany and then at Quinn's reflection in the rearview mirror.

"Look…we've never left them before okay. I was just being thorough…besides, I thought that you, of all people, Berry, would appreciate this."

"I didn't say anything, Santana," Rachel countered. Santana just crossed her hand across her chest and pouted. They drove in silence for about an hour.

"So…I left my kids with my sister." Quinn began, finally breaking the silence.

"We all know that, Q," Santana said, still annoyed.

"And…I don't know what to do with her homophobic ass."

"I don't understand how people are still homophobic in this day and age," Rachel said.

"Seriously," said Quinn.

"Whatever," said Santana.

"How can you say 'whatever', Santana?" Rachel shot back at Santana. I mean, this stuff directly affects you.

"I mean, do you really think people stopped being racist after we had President Obama for eight years? No," Santana answered her own questions, "I'm a quarter black, a quarter white, and half Puerto Rican. People still judged me by all the stereotypes about black and Latina people," Santana said. Rachel looked back at her questioningly. "My father is a Doctor, for Christsakes."

"Well, to be honest," Quinn interjected, "you kind of bring it on yourself when you insist on using your 'ghetto' voice." Santana scowled.

"I'm just saying, just because we have Ms. Condi Rice as president doesn't mean that people are all of a sudden going to be like, 'black is great! Women are equal! Lesbians are fun _and_ make good foreign policy decisions!'"

"She has a point," Rachel said.

"Besides, I didn't vote for her…" Santana concluded, "crazy black lesbian Republican cutting social programs. Fuck her. And fuck all of you." Santana said, laying her head on Brittany's shoulder.

"I think she's still upset about us making fun of her for laminating," Brittany said quietly, petting Santana's head. They were silent for the rest of the drive.

* * *

The sun was setting when they finally arrived in Big Bear.

"I love Big Bear," Brittany said with a grin as they grabbed their bags and walked toward the house.

"Okay," Quinn said, as she unlocked the door and they walked into the house. "B, S, you can take your normal room, I'll take the master bedroom, and Rach, you can take the smaller bedroom," Quinn said. Brittany skipped toward the back of the house while Santana followed, carrying all of their bags. "Follow me, Rach," Quinn said, leading Quinn toward the bedroom Rachel would be staying in. "Here you go," Quinn said, opening the door, "the newly furnished guest room—dammit!" Quinn said once the room was finally opened. She stormed out, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Rachel looked in. The room only contained a crib and a small child-sized bed. Rachel walked into the living room where Quinn was pacing back and forth on the phone.

"I thought you said you had the new furniture delivered, Justin!"

"I did," came Justin's yelling voice on the other side of the line, "I just did the saver shipping though…I didn't realize you had a timeline."

"Well now I'm here with Brittany, Santana, and Rachel, and Rachel has nowhere to sleep."

"Well why don't you just bunk together?" Justin asked. "That's what you girls do anyway on these girls' trips, right?" Quinn didn't know how to answer so she just hung up the phone. It took her a moment before she noticed Rachel standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Rach. He was supposed to have the new furniture delivered by now."

"It's okay," Rachel said. "I can just sleep on the couch."

"Nonsense, you're my guest, I'll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in my room."

"I can't kick you out of your room."

"It's really no big deal."

"Tell you what, why don't we deal with it when it's time for bed."

* * *

Rachel and Brittany were making dinner and Santana and Quinn were talking outside by the lake.

"Thanks for inviting us, Q," Santana said. "B's so excited…I haven't seen her like this in ages."

"Of course. I'm really glad you guys could come." They sat in silence, taking in the fresh air outside of the smog of Los Angeles.

"Are things okay with you and Rachel?"

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know…you guys are just acting differently than normal…"

"I mean…we had a conversation a little while about how our friendship was getting a little too codependent. You're probably just picking up on that." Santana just nodded.

"You know…I know I'm not like…the best person to talk to, Q," Santana began. "But I hope you know, that if you have anything you need to talk to me about, that I'll be here…I really love you, Q, and it's obvious how unhappy you are right now." Quinn nodded and grabbed her friend's hand and squeeze it tightly. The two sat in silence for about fifteen minutes, just holding hands.

"When did you know you were gay, San?" Quinn asked.

"I think I always knew."

"How is that possible?"

"Well, not on a cognizant level, of course. But I remember in 3rd grade sitting at an assembly next to the 5th graders wondering if everyone thought about their boobs all the time." Santana paused, thinking. "And I remember getting dressed up whenever I knew my hot blond babysitter was coming over. I remember watching TV when I was 11 and someone said that 10% of the population was gay and wondering how I got those odds."

"No, but when did you start acknowledging those feelings?"

"I don't know," Santana said, honestly. "I know that at some point I became aware of the fact that all I did was think about Brittany. I realized that on nights that I didn't sleep with her I felt empty. Around the same time I realized that I was a little too invested in the lives of lesbian characters on TV, and too obsessed with female celebrities. It took years for all of the pieces to fit together, but like I said, the pieces were always there, it just took me awhile to make sense of them all."

"DINNER!" Brittany yelled, poking her head out of the door. They both stood up, and Santana walked behind her friend for dinner. As they entered the house, Santana tried to put her bitch face on, or really any face on, that would hide her worried face. Though she would never admit it aloud, at least to anyone other than Brittany, Santana was worried for Quinn. She couldn't kick the nagging thought that the only people who had ever asked her how she knew she was gay were other gay people.

* * *

In her infinite wisdom, as Santana repeatedly pointed out to the group, Santana made sure to bring two bottles of champagne for their first night there. Rachel had insisted on a game of charades so Santana thought this was the perfect time to pop the first bottle. By ten, they were in round 17 and halfway through the second bottle.

Brittany made the movie signal and then imitated her heart beating out of her chest. She pointed at Santana.

"The Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love!" Santana yelled. Brittany squealed and pulled her wife in for a kiss. Rachel rolled her eyes and jumped up. It was her turn again. She jumped up and made the book signal. She walked around the room fake coughing, but no one caught on. She faked her heart beating out of her chest, which had become the universal signal for love over the course of the night.

"Love!" Brittany screamed. Rachel pointed at her smiling. She then tapped on her wrist and looked at it a few times. Seeing the confused faces, she resumed coughing.

"Time!" Santana yelled. "What the hell was that supposed to be, Berry?"

"Love in the Time of Cholera," Rachel said, defeated, taking a seat on the couch.

"It was terrible," Santana said jumping up. She made the movie sign and then sat on the ground, slouched over, and pretended to inject her vein.

"GIA!" Brittany yelled.

"How do they do this?" Rachel asked.

"I think I've caught on to them," Quinn replied to Rachel. "They've run out of ideas and are getting desperate. They're only doing lesbian movies…" Quinn whispered. "We'll counter them with musicals…it's my turn!" Quinn yelled. She stood up and pretended to put a hat on her head. She then pretended to unroll a scroll, light a candle and look at the sky.

"YENTL!" Rachel yelled. They high-fived. Brittany got up again, made the movie sign and began to do a cheerleading move.

"BUT I'M A CHEERLEADER!" Quinn yelled. Santana looked defeated. Quinn looked smug.

"I'm sick of this game," Santana said over to Quinn.

"Why, because I realized you're lesbian cheaters?" Quinn said.

"Don't make me point out the fact that you just got that lesbian movie…"

"Don't make me fight you, Satan," Quinn said.

"Because that ended so well the last time we fought in this living room?" Santana asked. Quinn lunged from her position on the couch over to Santana and in the process spilled her and Santana's champagne, soaking the couch.

"I think, maybe, it's time for bed, ladies," Rachel said. Brittany nodded. She didn't take a second thought pulling Santana off of the couch and walking toward their room, leaving Rachel and Quinn standing awkwardly.

"I'll take the couch," Quinn said.

"The couch is soaked," Rachel replied, gesturing to the champagne soaked couch.

"Well then I'll take the floor."

"That's ridiculous, Quinn, we worked our stuff out, we'll be fine. Besides, your bed is huge, we can definitely sleep on our opposite ends," Rachel said as they walked toward the bedroom.

"You're right," Quinn said as they entered. I'm being ridiculous." Quinn said as they entered the living room. Both women changed in opposite corners, looking away from one another. Once they were changed, Quinn looked awkwardly at the bed. Rachel caught on to her trepidation.

"It's fine, Quinn, we already talked about the fact that the other night was just us being confused, lonely, and thus codependent, plus, your bed is huge! We won't even be near one another." Rachel said, feigning optimism about the situation. In truth, she wasn't sure that she'd be able to sleep this weekend with Quinn sleeping so close to her.

"And…maybe you could sleep in more clothes?" Quinn asked, nervously, eyeing Rachel in her little shorts and tank top. Rachel blushed.

"But it's hot in here, Quinn. Brittany was cold so Santana turned the temperature up to like 70."

"I can fix that," Quinn said. She left the room and suddenly a blast of cold air came shooting through the vents. Quinn returned. "Air conditioner," she said, grinning. "Besides, Santana and Brittany are probably too busy having sex right now to notice the change in temperature." Rachel reached in her suitcase and pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt over her clothes.

"Okay! Great! This is going to be great!" Rachel said as she climbed into bed after Quinn, both women clinging desperately to their respective edges. Quinn shut the light. She stared up at the ceiling. Since Justin had the skylights installed, falling asleep in her room felt like camping. Especially since it was so cold. Quinn shivered, wishing she had more blankets to deal with the need to keep the inside of the house at sub zero degrees.

"It's really _really_ cold in here now," Rachel giggled. Quinn turned to see that Rachel also had not yet fallen asleep and was staring up into the night sky. Quinn giggled too.

* * *

Brittany and Santana had been making out for about 15 minutes, ever since the four women had decided to go to bed.

"It's nice, don't you think, San, to get to make out slowly like this and not have to worry that the babies are going to be awake in any moment?" Brittany said between kisses.

"Mmhmm," Santana said.

"I always loved your sweet lady kisses," Brittany said. Santana laughed.

"I don't think I've heard you say that since high school," Santana said. She gently pushed her wife back so that they were facing each other on the bed. It was still impossible for them, after 15 years of sex, to simply make out without it turning into something more. Their kisses deepened and Brittany let out a small moan as Santana slipped her leg between Brittany's. She found herself on top of her wife, rocking her hips in a steady rhythm as she kissed along Brittany's collarbone and neck.

"I want this off," Santana said, tugging at the hem of Brittany's shirt. Brittany stopped her. Santana looked into Brittany's bright blue eyes, clearly very confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong…it's just…" Santana furrowed her brow with worry. Brittany _never_ stopped sex.

"Baby, tell me, did I do something?" Santana asked.

"No, no, it's just…does it seem super cold in here right now?" Santana thought for a moment. It did seem a little bit chilly. She was just so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't notice the change in the temperature. "I'm freezing, I don't know if I _can_ take my clothes off."

"Don't worry, B, I'll keep you warm," Santana said smirking, "and I'll make sure the blankets are pulled up around us, just in case," she said, as she removed her wife's shirt and continued her ministrations.

* * *

"Feel my feet," Quinn said, extending her leg over to Rachel's feet. Rachel squealed.

"Quinn! They're like icicles. But they're not as bad as my hands," Rachel said, touching her hand lightly to Quinn's cheek. It was Quinn's turn to squeal.

"Jesus, Rach!" She said, taking Rachel's hand from her cheek and gently massaging it, trying to warm her hand. "It's clear out tonight," Quinn said, looking up at the stars. "You can see Ursa Major and Minor, I even think you can see Delphinus. I didn't even think it was possible to see Delphinus in this part of the country." Rachel laughed.

"I didn't know you were so into astronomy, Quinn." Quinn shrugged. "I think the only one I recognize is the Big Dipper."

"That's part of Ursa Major," Quinn said softly, still rubbing her thumb on the back of Rachel's hand. "I'm surprised you don't know this, you know, with your obsession with stars."

"Different kinds of stars," Rachel said softly. Quinn rolled over so that she was facing Rachel, still holding her hand. She turned her face up to the skylight, still in the fetal position.

"See, the brightest one at the top corner of the big dipper is the arch in the bear's back," she said, using Rachel's hand as a guide to trace the bear in the sky. "And that's his nose," she moves Rachel's hand again, "his paws, and the end of his tail." Rachel was vaguely aware that both of them had somehow migrated closer to the center of the bed during Quinn's astronomy lesson. So close, in fact, that Quinn's curled up knees grazed Rachel's hips.

"Which one is Delphinus?" Rachel asked.

"Delphinus was my favorite when I was a kid," Quinn said. "It means dolphin," she pointed to the sky with Rachel's hand again. "That is its nose…and that bright one there is its top fin, and the three in the diagonal are its tail…" Rachel turned to face Quinn, their knees knocking together.

"Why was that one your favorite?" Rachel asked.

"I liked the story," Quinn said.

"What was the story?" Rachel asked. Their hands had separated and Quinn pushed a strand of Rachel's hair out of her eyes, and then allowed her fingers to move absentmindedly through Rachel's dark hair.

"There was a poet and a musician named Arion. He had been traveling the world playing his harp and singing, and no matter where he went, everyone wanted to see him. My dad used to call him the Brittany Spears of antiquity." Rachel laughed. "Anyway, Arion hired a boat since he had accumulated so much money on his world tour to return home. One night, the crew decided that they'd rather split his wealth than take the measly pay he was giving them so they tied him up and forced him to walk the plank. He begged with them to let him sing one last song before he died, so they gave him a harp and he sang with the desperation of a man about to die. When the song ended, the sailors pushed him off the plank." The light from the moon was shining through the skylight and reflected off of Rachel's dark eyes. Their eyes remained locked together, but Quinn was finding it more and more difficult to continue with her story. That familiar burning in her stomach, the one she had convinced herself had been extinguished in the last two weeks, was returning. "The dolphins in the waters off of Sicily, however," Quinn continued, "had not heard enough of Arion's singing and came to his rescue. The largest of the dolphins, Delphinus, hoisted Arion on to his back and the dolphins took him all the way back to Greece. The gods heard of the Delphinus' brave feat and they were so pleased that Arion's music could live on that they raised him up so he could eternally swim among the stars, singing Arion's melodies."

"That was a lovely story, Quinn," Rachel said, her heart was racing in her chest as Quinn continued to play with her hair, her hand straying down Rachel's hairline and tracing the outline of her chin.

"You're warm, Rach," Quinn said, only now realizing how close the two had become on the bed. Their legs tangled together and Quinn could feel Rachel's breath on her skin.

"It was too cold," Rachel said slowly, as her hand slipped around Rachel's waist.

"This is better," Quinn said, now cupping Rachel's cheek.

"Yeah," Rachel said in a whisper, as their foreheads pressed together.

"I think it's the body heat," Quinn said as Rachel tightened her grip on Quinn's waist, which forced Rachel's leg in between Quinn's. Quinn moaned. At the sound, both womens' eyes opened wide.

"Body pillow! I have a body pillow!" Quinn yelled excitedly, jumping out of the bed so quickly she nearly fell to the ground.

"And I'll turn up the heat!" Rachel said. "Around 75 should do it, right?"

Ten minutes later, Rachel and Quinn were again on opposite sides of the bed, this time in shorts and t-shirts, but with the body pillow between them it didn't really matter. The blankets were in a pile on the floor and Rachel was actually sweating.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn said, from the other side of the barrier.

"Hmm?" Rachel mumbled out.

"I forgot the best part of the story. Arion was from the Greek Island of Lesbos!" Rachel burst out into loud laughter.

"Maybe Brittany's right," Rachel said. "Dolphins may just be gay sharks." The two women laughed loudly together. It took a little longer than usual, but eventually both fell asleep.

* * *

Santana could feel Brittany writhing beneath her, her moans growing louder and more frequent. Her thighs were shuddering involuntarily, and Santana knew that meant that she shouldn't stop now.

"Oh, Jesus, Santana," Brittany cried, pushing down on Santana's head. "Fuck, San," she shuddered out. Santana knew she shouldn't stop, but she couldn't breathe. She was starting to panic. Her face had never felt so hot before, and she was pretty sure she had stopped breathing. Brittany would be mad if she stopped, but Brittany would be more _mad_ if she died. Brittany groaned as Santana lifted her head out from under the three blankets covering her head and wiped her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, B," she said quickly shoving the blankets onto the ground. "It just got _so_ hot under there, I think I might be dying," Brittany's look of annoyance quickly turned to one of concern when she was that Santana was bright red (which was hard for someone of her complexion) and completely drenched in sweat. It looked like she had just come out of the swimming pool. Santana's eyes were wide with panic.

"It's okay, baby. I think it just got really hot though, I don't think you're dying," Brittany said, realizing that she too was covered in a thick layer of sweat.

"Hold on," Santana said, getting up and wrapping a sheet around her for modesty as she left their bedroom. A few minutes later she came back, holding a bowl.

"Did you get food?" Brittany asked her wife incredulously. It was one thing to stop for a moment because of the unpredictable nature of the temperature in Quinn's house, but it was quite another to take a food break. Fortunately, Santana shook her head and placed the bowl by the bed. She took out one ice cube and held it in her mouth before kissing Brittany, her tongue now cold. Brittany shuddered as Santana dragged the ice down the center of her body and made circles around her nipples with the cube. Brittany moaned.

"I need you, San, please," she groaned, reminding Santana of what she had been doing before she nearly passed out from heat stroke. She licked the ice cube and began placing small, icy, kisses down the center of Brittany's body. She held it in her mouth for a moment, smirking as Brittany bucked her hips towards her wife's face, which was now so close.

"At least we can use this heat to our advantage," Santana said, moving lower on her wife's body. Brittany let out a loud moan.

"Jesus, Santana," Brittany cried. Santana smirked. The heat was _definitely _working to her advantage.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** You guys are the best readers and reviewers ever. Like, seriously, the best. Thank you so much! This chapter is a little crazy and all over the place...but I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"You make funny noises when you sleep," Quinn said as Rachel lazily opened her eyes. Quinn was towel drying her hair.

"So I've been told," Rachel said, her voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

"9," Quinn said. "Which, sadly enough, is sleeping in for me." Rachel laughed.

"Me too." Rachel sat up in the bed, holding her knees. "I'm going to take a shower," she said slightly awkwardly and jumped out of bed and out of the room.

After she'd finished showering and changing, Rachel followed the smell of coffee toward the kitchen. Without speaking, Quinn poured Rachel a cup and handed it to her.

"I got a paper while you were in the shower," Quinn said, pointing over to the kitchen table. Rachel smiled. Quinn poured a little more coffee in her own cup and they sat down at the table. Quinn unfolded the paper and handed Rachel the Arts section while she read the News section. When Rachel finished, she got them more coffee and then they traded sections. When Quinn finished Arts section she pulled out the Business section and handed Rachel the Opinion for whenever she was finished with the News. Quinn checked her phone when she had finished the Opinion section. They never read Sports.

"It's almost 10:30," Quinn said, breaking the silence for the first time in over an hour. "Britt and Santana should be up soon." Rachel looked up from the paper.

"Really? I bet you they're not up before 1." Rachel said.

"No way. They'll roll out of their room by 11 at the latest."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, they're used to probably getting up at 6, so they'll have slept in until around 9. Then they'll have morning sex, which will take an hour and half."

"You think they'll only do it once?" Rachel asked.

"You know how much B eats…she'll get hungry and Santana will complain, but will give in to Britt in less than 10 minutes and it will take them 20 to look presentable. Eleven." Quinn said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I still think they won't be up until one."

"I'll bet you."

"Well what are we betting?"

"Ten dollars," Quinn said.

"Boring."

"A massage." Quinn turned red as soon as she said it. Rachel ignored her completely.

"Winner buys the other one dinner back in LA." Rachel said.

"Deal." Quinn replied. They shook hands, grinning. "Now, since I know that I'm going to win, what do you say we start cooking breakfast?" Rachel rolled her eyes. "I made sure that the house was stocked with plenty of vegan food before we arrived," Quinn said, a little bashfully. Rachel just smiled and opened the fridge.

* * *

Santana and Brittany lazily wandered out of their bedroom at eleven on the dot. Rachel shot Quinn a quick glare before returning to the odd sight in front of her. Brittany was holding a bowl of water close to her chest and placed it on the kitchen counter. She slipped behind Santana and wrapped her arms around her waist, kissing her cheek. Rachel rolled her eyes at the smug look on Santana's face.

"How was your night?" Quinn said, raising an eyebrow.

"It was amazing," Brittany said, kissing Santana on the cheek again.

"No thanks to the unpredictable temperature of your house," Santana added, leaning back into Brittany. Quinn blushed.

"Kind of thanks to it though," Brittany said, looking deep in thought. Santana smirked again.

"What's with the bowl of water, Britt?" Rachel asked.

"It was ice." Brittany deadpanned. "We didn't use it all so it melted." Rachel looked confused and Quinn just looked mildly grossed out. Santana grinned. They sat down to the breakfast that Quinn and Rachel had prepared.

"Vegan pancakes, vegan sausage, and fresh fruit!" Rachel said excitedly as they passed around the food. Santana rolled her eyes.

"I miss your breakfasts, baby," Santana said into Brittany's ear, and then kissed her cheek. Brittany smiled lovingly down at her wife. Santana caught her gaze and they just smiled at each other, seemingly having a conversation just with their eyes. Quinn finally cleared her throat.

"You mind passing the food, guys?" Quinn said, not even attempting to hide her exasperation. Santana passed the pancakes to Quinn, but Brittany didn't move from the orange juice she was holding. "GUYS!" Quinn yelled, startling everyone at the table.

"Sorry," Brittany giggled, passing the juice to Santana who poured some in her glass and passed it onto Quinn. Brittany looked at Santana again, grabbing her hand. "I love you," she mouthed to Santana.

"I love you too," Santana mouthed back. They shared a quick peck on the lips.

"I miss my kids," Quinn said quietly over to Rachel, "they are so much better at getting them to stop this annoying, post-sex, teenage nonsense." Rachel laughed.

"You just have to give Santana a black eye!" Quinn and Rachel broke out in boisterous laughter, causing Brittany and Santana to break out of their haze.

"What did we miss?" Santana asked. Quinn and Rachel just laughed harder.

* * *

After a normal amount of arguing among the four women they were showered, dressed, and ready to start their first full day in Big Bear. The plan was to first go to the zoo for the annual Labor Day Weekend Ice Cream Safari (Brittany's choice…Santana's choice after a long pout) and then to head on to Elevations Day Spa for their package four-hour treatment. Santana called Rita from the car. They talked for a few minutes about the babies before Santana asked to speak to her children.

"I'll put us on speaker so we both can talk to them," Santana said. There was some loud breathing and a little clapping heard on the other end of the phone.

"Nico? Livy?" Brittany asked. The response was giggling. "It's mama!"

"And mami,"

"And we miss you both so so much,"

"And we're going to get you lots of presents from Big Bear!" The twins were still just cooing and giggling in the background. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Mama," came a voice through the phone. Santana beamed at Brittany. All of a sudden a chorus of mama, mami, and ma went back and forth between the twins. They knew that the babies probably had no idea what they were saying, but it was adorable nonetheless. As Brittany and Santana grinned, the chorus of mama and mami somehow became boobs back and forth again. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Hello? Peep?" Came Rita's voice through the phone. Santana took the phone off speaker and the two spoke for another minute before Santana hung up the phone.

"That was our first phone conversation with our babies," Brittany said, smiling at Santana.

"I know," Santana replied with a huge grin plastered across her face. They hugged, but it took less than a minute before the hug turned into a full-on makeout session in the back of Quinn's car. Quinn rolled her eyes but let them go at it until they got to the zoo.

* * *

"That bird is named Puck," Brittany laughed as she ate her Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream while they walked through the first stop on the ice cream/animal tour. She was the only one eating ice cream; Santana was lactose intolerant, Quinn was watching her figure, and Rachel was vegan. Santana smiled lovingly at Brittany, Quinn looked bored, and Rachel looked disturbed.

"I just think it's sad to see all these animals caged like this…" Rachel said. It's like a prison." Brittany's face dropped.

"Is this a prison for animals? But they haven't done anything wrong…" Brittany said. Santana glared at Rachel.

"No, B, this is like a playground for animals! Look at Puck, I think he's smiling! And how he's playing with the other Kestrals!" Brittany nodded. Santana grabbed her wife's hand. "Trust me, B, they're happy," Santana said. "Since when do we believe whatever Berry has to say?" Brittany nodded again, the smile reforming on her lips.

"I think I'm done with this," she said, handing the ice cream to Santana, who finished it and threw it in the trash.

* * *

"I want to swim with the bears," Brittany said, eating her mint chocolate chip ice cream as they watched the black bears splash around in the water. "This would be like a real bear swim, not like that lame one we had with Justin when we got arrested." Rachel raised her eyebrow.

"Don't ask," Quinn said.

"B, I don't think it's the best idea you swim with the bears…I think this is more like a bear bath, and you wouldn't want them getting in with you during a bath."

"That's true," Brittany said. "I don't think I like Mint Chip," she added, handing her ice cream to Santana who finished it off.

* * *

"If we get a cat, can we name it Tornado like this bobcat?" Brittany asked Santana between bites of Double Fudge Brownie ice cream.

"Sure, B, but I don't know that we should get a cat right now."

"You're kind of like a cat, San." Santana smiled. "I'd rather we get a dog than a cat, anyway."

"I know, B."

"How much longer is this tour?" Rachel whispered to Quinn.

"Five stops. Just two more."

"Thank god." Rachel said. Brittany handed Santana the ice cream.

"Too much chocolate," she said simply. Santana wasn't complaining.

* * *

"Bald Eagles are boring." Brittany deadpanned as she ate her Pistachio Nut.

"They're, like, the American bird, B." Santana said.

"They're not bald. I don't know why they say they're bald."

"Because their heads are white."

"But…not all bald heads are white…like your dad's head, San. Besides, it doesn't make sense. What does being bald have to do with being American?"

"At one time, Bald meant white, not hairless," Rachel said. "The bald eagle was chosen in 1782 as the emblem of the United States because of its long life, great strength and majestic looks, and also because it was then believed to exist only on this continent."

"Oh," Brittany said. Quinn looked at Rachel skeptically. Rachel gestured over to the placard in front of the eagle display. "This is the best flavor so far," Brittany said.

"Can I try some?" Santana asked. Brittany handed it to her and Santana finished it.

* * *

"That's all I want, Santana!" Brittany said, working on her Rocky Road. Santana looked at her wife skeptically. Quinn mentally noted that this was probably the first time all day that Santana hadn't looked at Brittany with a face of pure adoration.

"Good luck getting that, Santana," Rachel whispered over to Santana. Santana glared at her.

"Please, San. I won't ask for a puppy, or a cat, or a turtle, or a mouse, or another baby, ever again," Brittany said. Quinn raised her eyebrows at Rachel.

"Baby, I wish I could get you one, but I don't think it would fit in our backyard," Santana said, eyeing the Wood Bison warily. Of course _this _would be the animal Brittany would fall in love with. "And if it doesn't have room to play it will be sad." Brittany seemed to accept this, with a mild amount of disappointment, and handed the ice cream to Santana.

"I think I've had enough ice cream for the day." Brittany said. Santana set to work at the last of the ice cream.

"Okay!" Rachel said, clapping her hands. "Spa, anyone?"

"Let's get the hell out of here." Quinn said. As they walked toward the car, Santana threw the empty ice cream cup in the trash.

"I don't feel so great." Santana said, holding her stomach.

"Well, you ate like a pint of ice cream," Rachel pointed out.

"And you're lactose intolerant," Quinn said as they piled in the car.

"I did not! I ate Britt's leftovers."

"Her leftovers of five scoops of ice cream!" Quinn said.

"Well…ice cream is delicious…" Santana said. She lay her head on Brittany's shoulder, holding her stomach. "I hate them." She said.

"I know, baby," Brittany replied, petting Santana's hair.

* * *

Santana couldn't help but look at her wife out of the corner of her eye as they got changed at the spa. She was amazed that Brittany was 30, had given birth to twins a year earlier, and had just eaten five bowls of ice cream and still managed to maintain the body of a 16 year old. She realized that she was ogling so she turned to face the other direction, not wanting to get shit from Quinn or Rachel. She looked up at Quinn who was in her robe and was clearly staring at Rachel changing. Santana furrowed her brow. Quinn must have felt eyes looking at her because she looked at Santana and blushed as Santana raised one eyebrow.

The massage was amazing, and definitely super relaxing, but Santana was distracted during the rest of their spa treatment. For one thing, her stomach still hurt from all of the ice cream. The real issue, however, was that every time she'd pull her attention away from her extremely attractive wife, she would catch Quinn or Rachel stealing a glance at one another, or catch them making eye contact and talking in that unspoken way she and Brittany had communicated for years. Maybe it was in her head, but things were definitely weird with them, and by the time they finished their spa treatment, it was all Santana was thinking about.

"I think we should order in," Santana said when they arrived back at the house. "I, for one, don't feel like cooking."

"I'd actually like to cook," Rachel said.

"I can help you," Quinn said. Santana raised her eyebrow for about the hundredth time since they'd gotten to Big Bear.

"You want to go in the hot tub, San?" Brittany said, the sex oozing off of her voice. Before Santana got a chance to answer, Brittany was walking away from the group toward the back porch peeling off her shirt and then her bra, and shimmying out of her pants as she walked. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I…I…" Santana began.

"Just go, Santana," Quinn said. "But please don't have sex in my hot tub."

"Sure, Q." Santana ran after her wife who was out of sight, but must be completely naked by now.

"They haven't changed _at all_ since they were 16, have they?" Rachel asked Quinn.

"Not a bit," Quinn laughed. "What do you want to make for dinner?"

* * *

"San, you promised we would talk about this in Big Bear!" Brittany said, crossing her arms across her bare chest.

"I just want to enjoy the hot tub now, B." Santana said.

"No. I want to talk about this."

"Fine, Britt. But first, can we talk about how weird Quinn and Rach are being?"

"No. They are being weird, but we can talk about that later."

"Fine. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, we always said we'd want to have our children two years apart…"

"Right, and we had two at once, which means we're two years ahead of schedule."

"No, it means that Nic and Olivia turn two in ten months which gives you exactly one month to get pregnant."

"One, it means we have a year and ten months, since we're ahead of schedule, and two, who said anything about _me_ having a baby?" Santana said, incredulously.

"I just had two! It's your turn! Plus, you have a job you can go back to while you still have baby weight, and maternity leave, so we'll still have two incomes, and I just got back to work! I can't get pregnant again now."

"Right. You'll get pregnant again in a year and ten months." Santana said. Brittany pouted. "I'm not budging on this, Brittany." As a result they sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. "Fine, Britt," Santana finally scowled. "But we _have _to compromise. What do you want from me?"

"First, I want you to say you'll have our next child."

"Fine. I'll have our next child." As soon as the words left her mouth, terrifying images of her waddling around yelling at people while 8 months pregnant filled her mind.

"Second, I want you to agree to start thinking about the logs and sticks."

"Logistics," Santana corrected.

"That's what I said."

"What do you mean, Britt?"

"Well, we could use the same donor, so all of our children will be related, but they won't look like me. Or we could use a Dutch donor, and then all of our children will look like us, but they won't technically be related by blood…"

"I don't know, Britt."

"Your racial makeup makes pretty children, San."

"I know." Santana said with a shrug.

"So let's make our kids related, okay?"

"Fine." Santana said. Brittany squealed. "But, Britt, seriously, I think we should wait. I _promise _you that I will have our next baby, and that we will use the same donor, but we have our hands full right now with two babies. It just doesn't make any sense." Brittany was about to pout, but she saw the seriousness in Santana's face. She knew her wife couldn't say no to her, but she also knew when Santana was right.

"Okay," she said simply. Santana smiled.

"Now come over here, so I can enjoy you while I have the chance," Santana said.

"You know it, baby. Only a couple more years before sleepless nights resume when our little Santana comes." Brittany swam over to Santana and straddled her, gently kissing her neck.

"I hate you." Santana said.

"Oh, you love me. Otherwise you would have figured out a way to say no by now…"

* * *

"Dinner!" Quinn screamed from the kitchen. Brittany and Santana reluctantly climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped themselves in towels. They walked into the kitchen, Santana in front with Brittany's arms wrapped around her waist.

"You two look happy," Rachel commented.

"Ugh, please tell me that you did not just have sex in the hot tub," Quinn said. Santana smirked at her.

"No," Brittany said proudly, "we decided to have another baby!"

"_We _did not decide anything. _Brittany_ decided she wants to have another baby. And here's the kicker…Brittany _decided _we're going to have another baby _and _that I have to be the one to carry it." Quinn and Rachel looked at the two in shock. Brittany was beaming and Santana just looked…annoyed.

"Congratulations?" Quinn asked.

"Thank you!" Brittany squealed, running over to Quinn and Rachel and enveloping them both in a hug, losing her towel to a shocked Quinn and Rachel.

"Maybe you should put some clothes on before we start dinner," Rachel said awkwardly. Santana smirked and led her wife toward their bedroom.

* * *

It was well after ten by the time they had finished their dinner. Quinn and Santana washed the dishes while Brittany ran some of her recent choreography by Rachel in the living room.

"I can't believe you agreed to have a _baby_, Santana." Quinn finally said, incredulously.

"You _know _that I don't know how to say no her. And she was so insistent…but at least I got her to agree that we have to wait."

"But you do realize that this means you are eventually going to have to have a baby." Santana finished her third glass of wine.  
"I'm hoping she'll forget. B has many wonderful qualities, but her memory isn't one of them."

"She'll never forget something as big as this." Quinn said, chuckling. Santana's eyes opened wide and she stopped washing dishes. She looked over at Quinn.

" I _can't _have a baby, Q." Santana said. Quinn put down the dish in her hand.

"Sure you can. Britt and I have both done it. I've done it four times, and Britt did two at once."

"No, Q, I can't. I've seen that shit. I've seen you give birth _three _times, and I've seen Brittany give birth once, and that's the most frightening shit I've ever seen in my life. I _can't_, Q. I'm not strong enough. I can support someone else during _their _pregnancy. I can make fucking anti-nausea teas, and rub bellies and give massages, and make late night taco truck and ice cream runs, but I _can't _have a baby myself."

"I'm sorry, but I think it's too late for that."

"I'm not pregnant yet. Oh. My. God. I just agreed to get pregnant. Kill me, Q, please…" Santana said.

"I'm not going to kill you. However, we _can _take some secret shots like we did back in college."

"We didn't buy liquor." Santana pointed out.

"Santana. This is my house. You think I don't keep the bar fully stocked? Let's just get to the basement." The two women snuck past Rachel and Brittany, still engrossed in choreography, and headed to the basement. Santana loved the basement in Big Bear. There was a pool table and a 52 inch screen TV and, most importantly, a bar. A bar that apparently was always fully stocked. "I think you need this tonight." Quinn said, bringing her over to the bar so that Santana sat like the customer and Quinn stood like the bartender. "What can I get for you tonight?" Quinn asked from behind the bar.

"Two shots of tequila. And two more for the pretty bartender in front of me." Quinn poured four shots out. They took them immediately. "Two more, for each of us," Santana said. Quinn poured out more shots, knowing that this much liquor in less than five minutes would make them talky and drunk, They threw back the next two shots. Ten minutes or so passed before the expected breakdown.

"I can't have a baby, Q," Santana began through drunken sobs. "I love Brittany. Do you know that?" Quinn nodded. "I love her Q. Like…I _love _her. You don't even understand. She's just so…perfect. She's beautiful and funny and she's an amazing dancer and she's always loved me even though I'm kind of a bitch to everyone. But she wants me to have a fucking baby. I can't have a baby. I'm not strong like you two are. I'm definitely not strong enough. I'm scared, Q." Quinn just nodded, knowing that Santana needed to rant. "And you're my _best friend_, Quinn, after Brittany because _she's _my wife and my best friend, but you're my best friend who I _don't _sleep with," Quinn rolled her eyes, "and I'm really really sorry that you have to listen to me cry about my nonexistent pregnancy when you have been pregnant four times _and _you're being all super gay…" Quinn's eyes widened, as Santana continued unfazed, "which is scary, I get it. I remember when I was super gay and you were super pregnant and I thought it was better to be super pregnant than super gay because pregnant ends in 9 months but gay lasts forever. But that was before I was almost pregnant." Quinn thought she was going to choke on her drink.

"First of all, you're not almost pregnant, you're not going to be pregnant for a couple of years. Second of all, why are you calling me gay?" Santana shrugged.

"Because you're being _super _gay, Q." Santana giggled, her mood suddenly changing. "Quinn Fabgay," Santana giggled again.

"I'm not being gay!" Quinn said, playfully shoving Santana from across the bar. "And you're bad at portmanteaus," she said, shoving Santana again.

"You wanna bring it Fabgay?" Santana said through a grin, stumbling off of the stool and raising her "I dare you to challenge me," arms.

"Consider it brung," Quinn said, walking out from her side of the bar. Quinn lunged at Santana pushing her against the wall. Santana shoved back and they fell into the pool table, Santana pulling at Quinn's hair and Quinn biting Santana's arm.

"Oh god, not this again," came Brittany's voice as she walked down the stairs. Quinn and Santana jumped apart, guiltily. Rachel just looked confused. Brittany walked behind the bar and gestured Rachel to follow her.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked as she took a seat at the bar. The four shot glasses were still sitting on the bar.

"Well," Brittany said, examining the liquor options behind the bar and finally settling on tequila. "My lovely wife was probably freaking out about having a baby _in a few years _and Quinn brought her down to her bachelorette party pad here, where they took 'secret shots'," Brittany used air quotes for this, "forgetting that I will always know when they take secret shots because they are always drunk when they come back from them. Santana then said something to insult Quinn, and Quinn said something to insult Santana, and we walked in just in time to catch the fight." Brittany passed two shots over to Rachel. Rachel cringed, thinking back to the last time she took tequila shots. Brittany clinked their glasses together and they took one right after the other.

"Don't think you two are the only ones who are going to get in on all of the fun, baby," Brittany said, her face crunched up after the shot, looking over at Santana. "Six years ago during a drunken fight here, Santana pushed Quinn over the couch and Quinn slipped on a magazine that had fallen off the coffee table and knocked out her two front teeth," Brittany said in a stage whisper to Rachel. "That's why her teeth are so perfect, no matter what," Brittany explained. "Fake." Santana and Quinn rolled their eyes.

"Wasn't my fault she tripped," Santana said, thankful that all the physical activity had at least sobered her up a bit.

"You _pushed _me," Quinn said.

"Not my fault you're so weak."

"Not my fault you're such a bitch."

"You should be _thanking _me, Fabgay. Your fake teeth look great."

"If you call me that again, Lopezbian, I'll will hurt you so badly you'll wish you'd never been born."

"You know I'm from Lima Heights _Adjacent_…"  
"Let me stop you there, ghetto Barbie, I've known you all my life, and there is no such thing as _Lima Heights Adjacent_. Your father's a _doctor_. I'm not some dumb kid at McKinley anymore…" Quinn pushed Santana. Santana pushed Quinn back.

_Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard_

_When we drink we do it right gettin' slizzard_

_Sippin sizzurp in my ride, in my ride, like three six_

_Now I'm feelin' so fly, like a G6_

Santana and Quinn looked up as the familiar song began.

"Maybe we should dance?" Rachel suggested. "This song always makes me want to dance. Plus, it's the first song I ever got drunk too."

"DANCE PARTY!" Brittany yelled.

Santana smirked at her wife who was, as usual, on top of the pool table, whipping her hair around in her shorts and bra. Santana took a swig from the tequila bottle she was holding. As she lowered the bottle she realized that she was also in just her shorts and bra. She rolled her eyes. Her eyes narrowed as they found Rachel and Quinn. Rachel was sitting on the bar holding a shot of tequila. Santana shifted her stance so that she could get a better view of what Quinn was doing, but she still couldn't see Quinn's face from her position on the pool table. Rachel picked the salt shaker off of the bar and shook some into the nook between Quinn's collarbone and neck.

"You've got to be kidding me," Santana said to herself as she jumped off the pool table and moved to where she could see Quinn's face, just in time to see Rachel lick the salt of off Quinn's neck, take her shot, and place the lime in her mouth.

"I have the best idea!" Brittany squealed over the music. Everyone turned to face Brittany. Thank god for her impeccable timing, anything to get those two away from being particularly weird and gross. "Hot tub!" Brittany jumped off the table and ran up the stairs, throwing her bra away behind her. Santana was momentarily distracted by the fact that Brittany was now upstairs topless.

"Hot tub hot tub hot tub!" Santana chanted, ushering the women at the bar up the stairs in front of her. It wasn't until she got to the hot tub that she thought that maybe it wasn't the best idea if she wanted to prevent them from being weird and gross. Her attention was again diverted, however, by the realization that Brittany was sitting in the hot tub, and she was definitely not wearing a shirt. Santana didn't waste anytime peeling off her own bra and shorts and climbing in after her wife. Brittany smirked at her as she sidled up next to her. Santana didn't say anything as she let her hand stray into the water to graze Brittany's thigh and up to her hip, only to be disappointed to find that Brittany was still in her underwear.

"San,' Brittany said, giggling, and swatting at Santana's hand under the water, "Rach and Q are right here." Quinn turned red.

"Okay, we're going to leave you guys alone."

"Na-uh," Santana said. "Get in the tub. Since when are you shy, Q?" Santana asked. Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana gently nudged Brittany to move forward and Santana slipped in behind her so that Brittany's back was pressed against her chest. Brittany leaned back into Santana so that they were sitting cheek to cheek.

"Get in!" Brittany said.

"I'll tell you what, Q," Santana said. "Brittany and I will close our eyes until you guys are under water so that we won't be able to see anything."

"Fine." Quinn said. "You first, Rach."

"No you first."

"Oh for god's sake," Santana said. "Quinn you go first," Santana shut her eyes tightly and felt the water ripple as Quinn climbed in.

"Brittany!" Rachel screeched.

"Yeah?" Brittany said. Santana opened her eyes to find out what was going on.

"SANTANA!" Rachel yelled.

"Sweet Jesus, I did _not _need to see Berry's boobs," Santana said, quickly shutting her eyes again.

"Brittany, shut your eyes." Brittany shrugged.

"I've never seen your boobs, Rach."

"Well, now you've seen them."

"Right, so why bother shutting them again now?" Brittany asked. Santana put her hands over her wife's eyes until Rachel was also in the water.

"Tell me somebody remembered to bring the alcohol up here," Rachel said, sitting as far away from everyone as possible in the hot tub.

"Obviously," Santana said, reaching behind her and taking a swig of tequila. She offered it to Brittany, who passed, and then handed it on to Rachel who took a 10 second gulp.

"You're going to regret that in the morning," Quinn said, taking the tequila from Rachel and taking a swig of it herself.

"I think I'm going to regret a lot of things in the morning," Rachel said.

"What should we do now?" Quinn asked, giggling a little at the strangeness of the situation.

"Let's play never have I ever!" Brittany said.

"We're too old for that, Britt," Quinn said. Brittany pouted.

"Okay, I'll start, let me just grab cups. " Santana said. She quickly hopped out of the hot tub and ran into the house.

"She has nice boobs," Rachel slurred out giggling. She immediately covered her mouth. She _hated _alcohol. Brittany nodded.

"They're fake," Brittany said. "Like Quinn's front teeth." Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana was back out in a moment and poured tequila into everyone's cup and passed them around.

"Stop looking at them, Rach!" Brittany said. Santana looked at Rachel questioningly and climbed back in the hot tub behind Brittany. "Rachel likes your boobs." Santana shrugged.

"They're great. I don't blame her," Santana smirked. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"They're great for now. Wait until you breastfeed," she smirked at Santana. Santana started to breathe deeply in and out, pursing her lips. She ran her hands through her hair before her face completely crumpled and she began sobbing.

"Look what you've done," Rachel hissed over at Quinn.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have been staring at her boobs!" Quinn hissed back.

"Not my fault!" Rachel said. "They're just so big…and perky…" Quinn rolled her eyes. Brittany meanwhile was calming Santana down.

"Guys! Game, now!" Brittany said. "Go ahead, baby," she said to Santana. Santana nodded, collecting herself.

"Never have I ever…kissed Berry." Quinn and Brittany drank. Quinn looked questioningly at Brittany, who shrugged.

"In high school…I kissed everybody."

"Never have I ever," Quinn began, "had sex with a woman," she finished. Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel drank.

"We can't play this game with Quinn," Santana said, her face still scrunched up from the tequila. "She's just going to do lesbian things and get us all out…never have I gone down on a woman, never have I used a strap on, never have I felt someone else's boobs…"

"Hey!" Quinn yelled. "I've touched boobs! I'm not that much of a prude…" Santana looked at her skeptically. "I've touched Brittany _and _Rachel's boobs." Santana raised her eyebrows, looking at her wife.

"Oh, San, you know we made out our Sophomore year. I made out with _everyone_," Brittany reminded Santana for the second time that night. Santana's face scrunched up again, and she began to breathe heavily out of her mouth. "San…San-baby…"

"You just…you never told me she touched your boobs…" Santana broke down crying into Brittany's shoulder.

"I think it's time we go to bed," Brittany said, rising out of the water and turning to bring Santana with her. Quinn and Rachel both looked down into the water, averting their attention from the nearly naked bodies in front of them. Brittany wrapped at towel around Santana and herself and they quietly walked into the house, Santana crying against Rachel's shoulder. Rachel and Quinn sat in silence.

"Well…" Rachel said, finally. "This is awkward."

"Totally awkward." Quinn said, happy that Rachel was breaking the tension. Quinn picked up the cup of tequila that Santana had poured and finished it in one gulp. She waded over to the other side of the hot tub and finished Santana's and handed Rachel Brittany's.

"What do we do now?" Rachel said, as she took a sip of Brittany's drink. Quinn shrugged.

"Go to bed, I guess?" Rachel nodded. "Close your eyes," Quinn said. Rachel complied, slowly sipping out of Brittany's cup.

"I'm pretty sure that Santana put some chaser in here," Rachel said, her eyes squeezed tightly.

"I know," Quinn said. "She put chaser in hers as well, that selfish bitch…you can open your eyes now." Rachel opened her eyes. "I'm going in, I'll see you in there in a second?" Quinn asked. Rachel just nodded. After the sliding door shut, Rachel climbed out of the hot tub as well and wrapped a towel tightly around her body.

* * *

"I…love…you…" Santana choked out between sobs.

"I know you do, baby." Brittany said, holding a naked, wet, sobbing Santana tightly to her body.

"I love you so much that sometimes it hurts to function," Santana said, nuzzling into Brittany's chest. Brittany kissed the top of her head.

"And you're just so perfect, Britt," she kissed Brittany's collarbone. "You're perfect and amazing and you have _really _nice boobs," Santana said, her sobs dying down as she touched Brittany's breasts. Her hand trailed lower. "Also, you have really nice abs," she said, her hand trailing further south. Her sobs had pretty much subsided by now. Brittany smirked as Santana's hand grazed the waistline of her panties. "Also, you…"

"Stop, San," Brittany said, her voice suddenly husky. She leaned down and pulled Santana into a tight, passionate kiss. "Stop," she whispered into her lips, "and just show me how perfect I am…" Santana didn't need to be asked twice.

* * *

Much to Rachel's dismay, when she walked into the room, Quinn had not yet gotten changed, and was fixing her makeup in the mirror.

"My mascara is running," she said simply, catching Rachel's reflection in the mirror. Rachel took a sip of the drink she had wisely brought with her.

"You still look beautiful," she said. Okay, maybe not so wisely. "I have to get some clothes," Rachel said, heading over to her open suitcase. She placed her cup on the dresser and stumble to her suitcase. As she leaned over it she suddenly felt fuzzy and realized she was falling. She blindly flailed for the edge of the bed, but thankfully Quinn grabbed her around the waist, steadying her.

"Careful there, tiger," Quinn said, still standing behind Rachel holding her waist tightly.

"I guess I'm drunker than I thought," Rachel mumbled out, her heart threatening to explode out of her chest.

"I think we all drank a little too much," Quinn whispered into Rachel's ear. Rachel turned slowly to face Quinn.

"Yes. We all did. I'm feeling very warm and I suspect it has something to do with he copious amounts of liquor I consumed over the course of the night, unless you've been tinkering with that thermostat again, which really isn't necessary because I was planning on taking the couch tonight since I'm sure it has dried in the 24 hours since champagne was spilled on it." Quinn stepped away from Rachel as she ranted, trying to control the half-smile that played on her lips until Rachel got to the last part.

"You're not sleeping in here?" Quinn said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, I'm going to sleep in the living room."

"Why?" Quinn said, casually returning to the mirror to fix her makeup.

"You know why." Quinn caught Rachel's eye in the mirror.

"No, I don't. Friends share beds all the time, Rachel. Why don't you _tell_ me why?"

"I'm not playing this game with you, Quinn. You're drunk and I'm drunk and it's not a good idea…"

"What's not a good idea," Quinn smirked. She didn't know why she was doing this.

"Why are you doing this?" Rachel asked, as though she were reading Quinn's thoughts. "Are you trying to humiliate me? Is this all a game for you, something to entertain yourself with while you wait for your husband to come back? Watch silly little Rachel Berry act like a teenager again and drool all over me and then laugh at her when she's left humiliated, heartbroken and alone?"

"You can't possibly think that, Rachel." Quinn said turning around so she was facing her.

"Well what do you expect me to think, Quinn," Rachel spit her name out like it was venom.

"You think this is _fun_ for me? You think this is _easy _for me? Well fuck you, Rachel. Spending all this time with you is like stabbing a knife into an open wound, each time reminding me of all the things I've done wrong, all the mistakes I've made, all of the regrets I have to live with day after day. Thirty years of living a life that someone else told me I was supposed to live, and then, for the briefest of moments, getting to pretend that I had made decisions that were true to _me_, only to have that dream wrenched away at the end of every night. And you think I'm having fun?" Quinn shook her head.

"You're crying." Rachel said softly.

"I'm upset! I-I-" Rachel cut her off, stepping toward her and gently pushing Quinn's body back into the dresser with a searing kiss. Quinn moaned into Rachel's mouth as they slowed the kiss down, pressing soft lips gently together. Rachel began to explore Quinn's lips with her tongue, and their tongues danced softly together, nipping at one another, and then gently massaging as the intensity of the kiss increased. Quinn was now sitting on the dresser, her hands in Rachel's hair as Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist, holding them close together. Rachel began to kiss down Quinn's jawline, sucking on her neck and collarbone. She felt Quinn's elbow nudge her face gently as she loosened the knot in her towel and let it fall down.

"Fuck," Rachel moaned, moving her head back up to kiss Quinn on the lips. Hearing that word come out of Rachel's mouth, and in that _way_, Quinn wasn't sure she had ever been so turned on in her life. She ground her hips into Rachel, and Rachel let her left arm trail down to cup Quinn's naked breast. The bucking of Quinn's hips was growing faster and stronger, as were the moans into Rachel's mouth.

"I need you," Quinn whispered. Rachel kissed Quinn's collarbone, and then laid a path of kisses down the middle of Quinn's body. She gently lifted Quinn's right leg and placed it over her shoulder, planting a line of kisses slowly up Quinn's thigh.

* * *

"Baby?" Brittany nudged Santana.

"Hm?" Santana mumbled. She had finally fallen asleep.

"I'm thirsty." Santana groaned.

"Okay," she kissed Brittany's neck where her face was buried and peeled herself off of her wife.

"Baby?" Brittany said again.

"Yeah, Britt?" Santana asked, turning around with her hand on the doorknob.

"You should probably put some clothes on. The couch is dry so Rach or Q are probably out there." Santana nodded and grabbed the sheet off the floor and wrapped herself in it. She tiptoed out into the living room, trying her best to be quiet, but apparently their drunken antics from earlier in the evening caused the furniture to all move a few inches to the right and Santana tripped.

"Mother holy fuck!" Santana cried out. She flipped on the light. "Sorry, Rach," she began. The couch was completely empty. Santana's eyes narrowed. She walked down the hall and filled a glass with water for Brittany. She stopped for a moment thinking about walking over to Quinn's room, just to see if she could hear anything. High school Santana would have definitely needed to know, and high school Santana's curiosity was threatening to take over. Adult Santana won though. She realized that she'd rather not have any idea of what was going on in there.

"Here you go, B," Santana said, handing the glass of water to Brittany. She still held the sheet around her body.

"I hate that sheet." Brittany said, trailing her hand along Santana's shoulder. "Your post-sex hair is hot though…I wish you always had post-sex hair…" Santana still sat on the edge of the bed, not replying. "What's wrong?" Brittany asked.

"Rachel is not on the couch." There was a long silence. Santana smiled, picturing Brittany's forehead scrunched in thought, even though her back was to her.

"You think she's with Quinn?" Santana shrugged her shoulders. She let the sheet fall to the floor and crawled into bed. "Don't think too much, tonight. You won't get any sleep. Think in the morning." Santana nodded and turned over so that she was curled up facing Brittany. Brittany kissed her on the lips. "You're sexy," she said, pushing back the covers so more of Santana was exposed. She kissed Santana's neck and lightly ran a finger up Santana's side, sending a shiver down her spine. She rolled her over so that she was on top of her. Santana looked quizzically up at Brittany and pushed her blond hair out of her face.

"I thought you said I should sleep," Santana said.

"I changed my mind," Brittany replied with a devilish grin.

* * *

"Oh my God," Quinn moaned, threading her hand through Rachel's hair. Quinn literally thought she had never felt anything this good in her life. Her back was arched so she faced the ceiling and her hand not in Rachel's hair gripped so tightly to the edge of the dresser that her knuckles turned white. "Wait, wait, Rach, stop." Rachel looked up at Quinn, sadness behind her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Quinn, is something wrong, did I do something…"

"Shut up," Quinn said, hopping off of the dresser and gently pushing Rachel back toward the bed. "I don't want to be the only one having fun," she said, taking Rachel's towel off with just one swoop. They crawled back onto the bed, and Rachel positioned her so that she was sitting up and Quinn was straddling her lap. "What are you doing?" Quinn said between kisses.

"Shh…" Rachel said, hungrily kissing Quinn again and pulling her tighter to her body until their centers touched.

"Oh my god," Quinn shuddered out. "You're so…you're so…" Quinn attempted to get the words out, but as their hips settled into a rhythm it became impossible. Quinn shut her eyes tightly as they moved as a unit. For a fraction of a second Quinn thought about tomorrow, but Rachel pressed her forehead against Quinn's and thrust against her again and the thought disappeared.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delayed update, I watched Sexy and suddenly no longer felt the need to write Brittana, but I think it's coming back, slowly. I split this chapter into two because it was getting so epically long...so this is like, half a day.

As always, I love all you beautiful, wonderful, reviewers. I'm sorry to anyone who feels like a chapter is too much Brittana or too much Faberry, it is a story about both of them, and it's hard to keep it equal in all chapters, but I think it will even out in the end! And I love your reviews anyway! Thanks for continuing to read!

* * *

Santana and Brittany rocked back and forth in the hammock in the backyard, looking out at the lake. Brittany had her back against Santana and her head in her chest, and was holding a large travel mug of coffee. Santana kissed the top of Brittany's head, and Brittany sighed contentedly. Santana took the coffee from her wife and had a sip.

"Do you think they'll be up soon?" Brittany asked, looking at her watch.

"I don't know," Santana said quietly.

"This isn't good," Brittany said.

"I know." Santana replied. She handed the coffee back to Brittany who also took a sip. Santana traced her fingers up and down Brittany's arms,

"Should we do something about it?" Brittany asked.

"I don't know," Santana said. She sighed in defeat. "I mean, there is the possibility that they just have a really unhealthy, codependent, sexless relationship in order to mask the vast desert of loneliness that is both of their lives." Brittany rolled her eyes. "But since it's sexless, they're really not doing anything that we need to talk to them about."

"But, even if it is sexless, shouldn't you still talk to Quinn?"

"Why?" Santana asked.

"Do you remember what a wreck _you _were when you were coming out of the closet, San? When you weren't yelling at someone you were fighting with someone, and when you weren't fighting with someone you were crying. And you were barely speaking to me, and you weren't really talking to your family. And you had a family that would accept you, you were single, and your only responsibility was school and cheerios. Imagine how Quinn must feel."

"We don't know that she's gay or even bisexual, Britt!"

"No, but we do know that she obviously has feelings for Rachel. And she's from a conservative Christian family. And she's married and she has three children, and she's potentially struggling with same issues we struggled with when we were sixteen and didn't really have another care in the world." Santana kissed her wife on the head.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?"

"No. Tell me now."

"I love you, Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez. I can't believe I am so lucky to have had you in my life for the last twenty years."

"And the next twenty."

"And the next twenty," Santana repeated. Brittany sat up and tried to twist her body around so she could kiss Santana. "Britt! Sit still!" Santana yelled as the hammock swung violently back and forth. "BRITTANY!" The hammock flipped over and Santana and Brittany became a mess of limbs and spilled coffee. Their eyes locked and they both burst out in laughter.

"I love you," Brittany said, pulling Santana in for a kiss.

"I love you too. Even though you ruined my favorite shirt," Santana looked down at the damage done by the coffee. Brittany stood up and extended her hand to Santana's.

"Let's go get changed." She pulled Santana up and led her toward the house.

"I'll talk to Q when we get back to LA." Santana said as they interlaced their fingers. Brittany nodded and sighed happily.

* * *

Quinn's head was killing her when the sun glaring through the skylight finally woke her up. She groaned and rolled over, squeezing her eyes tight. Everything in her body hurt. Somehow, though, she felt content, she felt satisfied, she felt…the events of the night before came crashing back to her and she realized that mostly she felt naked. She opened her eyes and realized quickly that Rachel was also naked. So many thoughts came running through her head that she lost the ability to move. Rachel hot naked, husband, Brittany and Santana outside, nakedness, the time, Rachel's boobs…she couldn't handle all the thoughts scrambling in her brain. She wondered if this is what Brittany felt like most of the time. She reached over for her cell phone. 11:30. That meant that Brittany and Santana were up, they were aware of their little sleepover, and that she needed to get the hell out of bed. She jumped up and frantically ran her brush through her hair.

"Too much noise…" she heard from the bed.

"Get up, Rachel."

"What's wrong with you…"

"Seriously, Rach, get up." Quinn dug threw her suitcase looking for some clothes and wondering where all of her underwear went. Rachel sleepily opened her eyes, and was shocked to see a naked Quinn.

"Quinn! Put on some clothes!" Quinn glared at her.

"Look at yourself!" Rachel looked down to find that she too was naked. She shut her eyes as it all came back…the hot tub, the speech Quinn gave her, the mindblowing sex…she tried to push the last one out of her mind, which was easier said than done with Quinn standing naked in front of her. She grabbed a towel off of the floor and haphazardly threw it over her body, too hungover and tired to realize that one of her breasts' was still hanging out. Quinn turned to her, a glare in her eye.

"Rach! I…I…" all of a sudden Quinn found herself speechless. "You know what, just get back in bed and cover yourself up, I'll get dressed and then you can get dressed."

"That's dumb. It's going to look weird if we come out separately!"

"Well at least do a better job of covering yourself up then!"

"Are you really going to be mad at me about this right now?" Rachel said, pulling the towel up so she was covered. Quinn, however, was still naked, and Rachel was having trouble getting the images of the night before out of her mind.

"Rachel. What we did was very _very_ bad. Do you not understand that?"

"Don't make it seem like this is all on me, Quinn! Of course I understand that! _I _tried to sleep on the couch. _You _seduced me into staying in here with you."

"_I _seduced _you?_" Quinn said incredulously. "_You _kissed _me _first!"

"I didn't hear you complaining, and I only kissed you after you gave me a hard time about why I didn't want to sleep in here."

"I don't even have the first idea of how to have lesbian sex! How could I have seduced you?"

"You seemed to catch on pretty fast," Rachel said sarcastically. Quinn quickly turned fire engine red. She turned to face Rachel, not caring that she was completely naked, and not caring that Brittany and Santana could probably hear them fighting.

"It doesn't matter who started it. What matters is that it should not have happened." She took a step closer to Rachel. "What matters is that I'm upset right now, and you should be too," her voice began to falter as she remembered just how good last night was. "What matters is…" she trailed off, looking at Rachel's pouty lips and the anger in her eyes. Rachel caught the direction of Quinn's gaze and they made quick eye contact. "FUCK." Quinn said. "Where is all my underwear?" She finally found a pair and quickly slipped them on. She gave up on a bra and slipped on some cutoffs and a tank top. "Why are you just standing there?" Quinn said angrily. "Get dressed." Rachel slipped into a dress and then found a pair of underwear that she pulled on underneath it.

"You know we're going to have to talk about this eventually." Rachel said.

"Right now, all I need from you is to put on your best Rachel Berry happy face and get out of this room with me. And here, fix you hair…" Quinn began finger brushing Rachel's tangled hair, but immediately felt her heart race as its smell invaded her senses. "Let's just go," she said, defeated.

* * *

Brittany and Santana were just coming into the house as Rachel and Quinn entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, sunshines!" Rachel said cheerily as Brittany and Santana walked toward the kitchen. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Santana gave her best "what the fuck is wrong with you" glare to Rachel. "You're awfully chipper for the amount you drank last night, Berry."

"I find that harboring a positive attitude is key to squashing even the worst of hangovers. That and hydration, electrolytes and fiber."

"I find that coffee and cigarettes are the cure…" Brittany rolled her eyes, "but since I don't smoke anymore, I've stuck to coffee and sex…there's plenty of coffee left, it's not _all_ on my shirt. I don't know how to help you in the sex department though…" Santana winked and Brittany stepped on her foot.

"So, I was thinking that we just take it easy today?" Quinn said, taking her first glorious sip of coffee and passing a cup to Rachel. "Just hang around here, maybe go sailing, or a swim in the lake, you know, appreciate the natural beauty of Big Bear and all that shit."

"That sounds great," Brittany said.

"I can't imagine a more perfect way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon," Rachel said.

Everyone looked at Santana. It was official, she had gone into full on sleuth mode. Rachel was too upbeat, Quinn was tense and cursed unnecessarily, Quinn knew how Rachel took her coffee without asking. Also…Quinn was not wearing a bra?

"San?" Brittany finally said. "Does that sound okay to you?"

"Oh, yeah, that sounds fine."

* * *

They laid out four lawn chairs in the grass, trying to get some of the early afternoon sun. Brittany and Santana shared the headphones from Brittany's iPod and Santana read Parenting magazine. Rachel was engrossed in Variety and Quinn was struggling to focus on her copy of the New Yorker and not think about the night before.

"You should really read this short story," Quinn said, looking over at Santana. "I bet it could be adapted." Quinn handed Santana The New Yorker.

"You should probably check this one out, too," Santana said, handing Parenting over to Quinn. "In fact, I dog eared the article for you, it's called 'Aggression Management 101'…they have a whole section on handling a six to eight year olds aggression." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Fine, but do you want to try out the lake first?"

"Sure," Santana said.

* * *

"You doing anything for Britt's birthday?" Quinn asked as they swam around the lake absentmindedly.

"The usual. You know how she is about her birthday. Big party, the whole shebang." Quinn nodded. "Mike is going to be in town that weekend, which is nice for Britt."

"What are you going to get her?" Santana smirked at Quinn's question.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Are you free on Wednesday?" Quinn nodded. "How do you feel about coming with me to the animal shelter?"

"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Look, Q, Brittany has really wanted a dog since we first moved in together, when we were like 20," Santana said.

"I know, I was there," Quinn pointed out.

"And she really wants to have a baby right now, which I think is insane, so I thought it would really cheer her up if I got her a dog. Plus, I read that if you're going to get a puppy, it's better to get it while your kids are still babies because then they're babies together and you don't really get any aggression. LA North Central shelter has a Pitbull-German Shepherd mix that is 4 months old named Lola, and she's super cute, but also would look super fierce when she's grown, and I want to get her, but I want you to make sure it's okay, alright?" Santana said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You're ridiculous." Quinn said.

"I know. So I was thinking, Wednesday, I'd fake go to work, have my assistant forward all my calls to my cell, and meet up with you. We can go out to lunch, check out the dog, and I can start filling out the paperwork. Then we can hang for the rest of the day?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, taken slightly aback. "We haven't had a day together in forever."

"I know. It's not right. The animal shelter is over in Cypress Park and I know some great stuff out there, so I figured we could chill in a different part of town for once."

"Ain't no Beverly Hills."

"That's for sure."

"You are so damn whipped," Quinn splashed Santana. Santana rolled her eyes. Santana splashed her back.

"At least I'm not having weird sleepovers with my 'best friend'," Santana used air quotes, "when my husband stands me up on a national holiday." Quinn splashed Santana again.

"Ugh," Quinn said, "just because you're a lesbian doesn't mean everyone is."

"Well maybe I wouldn't think so if you didn't act like one all the time." Santana replied, splashing Quinn again. Quinn lunged at Santana trying to push her under the water. Santana struggled up, spitting water out of her mouth and nose. "Oh, it's _on_, bitch," she said, shoveling heaves of water with her arms in Quinn's direction.

* * *

"So, how are things going with Sarah?" Brittany asked Rachel, while Quinn and Santana engaged in a massive splashing fight in the lake.

"They're good," Rachel said, looking up from her magazine. "How are things with you and Santana."

"You're lying." Brittany said, simply.

"What? I mean they're fine, nothing to write home about, I guess. Why do you think I'm lying?"

"Because you asked me how things are going with me and San." Brittany said. "There is no reason to ask me that. You know how things are with me and San. You only ever ask when things are bad with you and you are trying to change the subject."

"You're reading too much into things, Britt."

"I don't think anyone has ever said that to me before." Brittany said. Rachel smiled.

"Look, Britt, they're fine, I'm not going to start squealing from a rooftop about the love of my life, but she's nice, pretty, and interesting and we enjoy one another's company at the moment. That's all I ask for right now. Nice, sane, and normal. Drama free." Brittany shrugged and put her headphones back in.

* * *

"You two looked like you were having fun…" Brittany said, as Quinn and Santana walked up the lawn from the lake. Santana rolled her eyes.

"That _bitch_ tried to drown me for no good reason," Santana said, glaring at Quinn. The glare quickly turned into a devilish smirk. "And now I'm tired, B…" she said. Without warning she stretched the entire length of her wet body on top of the length of Brittany's dry one. Brittany squealed.

"I hate you! I hate you! Get off of me!"

"But you're so warm and dry, Britt…you're like a giant towel." Brittany giggled and playfully hit Santana as she nuzzled herself further into Brittany's neck.

"I just want to sleep on my big, warm towel," Santana said.

"If you want to take a nap, we should go inside so that you can do it properly." Brittany said. Santana smirked and pulled Brittany up off the chair with her.

"We're gonna take a nap, guys!" Santana said, giddily dragging Brittany toward the house.

"You're getting me all wet, San!" Brittany said in the distance as they approached the door.

"You think you're wet now…you wait," Santana could be heard saying as the sliding door slammed shut. Rachel and Quinn rolled their eyes.

* * *

Rachel and Quinn silently read their magazines, enjoying the late summer heat. Quinn rolled onto her back and the sun caught the remaining droplets of water from her swim. Rachel tried not to stare.

"You know, we have to talk about this eventually," she finally said.

"There's nothing to talk about." Quinn said, not looking up from her magazine. Rachel didn't say anything. She knew she couldn't push Quinn into talking about it if she didn't want to. She had changed enough since high school to know that everything wasn't solved by her forcing conversation. Quinn sat up and looked straight ahead, clearly avoiding Rachel. Finally, Rachel felt she had to break the silence.

"You were so upset this morning, and now you have nothing to say?"

"I've had time to think since this morning." They sat in silence for another few moments. "I mean, we both know the only places this conversation is going to go, Rach," Quinn sighed out. "We'll both agree that it never should have happened. We'll say we were confused, it was all the alcohol, it was just some fucked up way of expressing our confused emotions about each other. We'll say it didn't matter, that it didn't mean anything, and thus allow ourselves to continue to be around each other, until our awkwardness reaches another breaking point and we are a little too drunk and we do it again. Well, I'm not going to do that, Rachel."  
"Well what exactly do you propose we do then?"

"Nothing. I propose we do nothing."

"Fine." They returned to their magazines. "Just because we don't talk about it doesn't mean it goes away," Rachel finally said, unable to bite her tongue any longer. "We still had sex. You still cheated on your husband." Quinn winced. "You still had sex with me, a woman, and eventually we will have to deal with the consequences."

"Why do there have to be consequences?" Quinn asked.

"Because this is life. There are consequences to our actions."

"Well, I'm tired of doing everything right. I'm tired of always living in fear of what's going to happen. Why can't we just not talk about it and live our lives and see what happens?"

"Because we're not teenagers anymore?" Rachel replied, somewhat shocked by Quinn's nonchalant response. "Because what we did last night was not right?"

"We both are alone, Rachel." Rachel looked at her lap. "And you know what? We both have done what is right. I've never cheated on my husband. I stay at home, the perfect little housewife, while he is off galavanting around the country sleeping with god knows how many women. I never say anything. Well I'm not going to do that anymore. I've lost the last ten years of my life. Obviously, I have three beautiful children that I would die for, but they are all I have. I don't want to waste anymore time second guessing myself, questioning everything, and making myself miserable."

"So where does that leave us?" Rachel asked.

"Rolling with the punches."

"I can't do that, Quinn," Rachel said standing up and turning to leave. Quinn grabbed her wrist and pulled Rachel sharply down to her. She gave Rachel a soft, yet passionate kiss. She pulled away and looked into her dark eyes.

"What do you have to lose?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **Hello! Thank you all again for reading and reviewing! Sorry if this chapter seems a little like it's all over the place. It's sort of a transitional chapter. Also, this is the second half of the day Sunday and Monday in Big Bear. Anyway, I'll let you all decide for yourselves!

* * *

"Baby!" Santana whined. "You promised you wouldn't do this anymore…" Brittany straddled Santana's hips with her right hand beneath her own underwear. Santana's hands were handcuffed to the bed frame and she bucked her hips feverishly, trying to get any sort of contact.

"Don't call me baby," Brittany groaned out. "If you want anything from me, you will address me as officer," Brittany said, her eyes glinting behind Santana's dark aviators.

"Officer Pierce, I promise I will be on my best behavior from now on. Please, just let me out on parole." Santana squirmed beneath her wife.

"I'm going to need to see that good behavior before I'm comfortable letting those handcuffs off of you, young lady," Brittany said, slowly climbing her way up her wife. "You have been _very _bad lately…"

* * *

Rachel sat at the bar in Quinn's basement. She had tried sitting in the living room for awhile, but no amount of TV could ever drown out the sounds coming from Brittany and Santana. She left after a particularly loud Santana had groaned what she was fairly certain was "Officer Pierce" and found her mind immediately riddled with highly disturbing visuals. She went in the kitchen, but she hadn't had an appetite all day. That left the basement where she was fairly certain she would be left alone. She had become more accustomed to drinking since spending so much time with Quinn. As she walked around the bar to see what was hiding behind it, she mentally added this fact to the growing list of unhealthy habits Quinn Fabray-Scott had introduced into her life. She picked up a book that was hidden between the many bottles, "The Craft of the Cocktail". She smirked. Maybe she could have some fun with this…she had always wanted to be a better mixologist—it was on a long list of skills she thought that a successful single diva should have, the ability to craft the perfect cocktail when you have the attractive, successful producer over to dinner. If she used small cups, it wouldn't be a problem, right? Step one: the perfect, fractional sized, Martini.

* * *

Quinn walked down to the dock and untied the sailboat, climbing in. She sailed until she was about twenty minutes away from the dock and then dropped anchor, allowing the small boat to just bob back and forth with the current. She picked up her phone.

"Hey, Franny."

"Well, hello, Quinn. We were wondering when you were going to take the time to call your children."

"I've been gone a day," Quinn said, rolling her eyes underneath her dark sunglasses. "Just because _you_ don't know how to leave the house anymore doesn't mean that I am not allowed to have a weekend to myself."

"You're a _parent_, Quinn. Don't you know that there is no _yourself_, anymore? That's your problem, you know? You've always been selfish, ever since you were a little girl."

"You know what, Franny, I didn't call to get another lecture from you. I want to check up on my kids, so if you please could get them for me so I can make sure you haven't brainwashed them already with crazy ideas about me, or lesbians, or Mexican people, I'd really appreciate it." She could hear her sister yell for her children.

"MOM!" Hannah was the first to come on the line.

"Hi, baby," Quinn said, always comforted hearing her daughters' voices. "How are you?"

"Terrible. I hate it here, and I hate Aunt Fran, and I miss you, and I miss Rachel" Quinn cringed at Rachel's name, "and she keeps making Lily cry. Quinn heard a click on the phone.

"Mommy, please come home," Lily said. Apparently Lily had picked up another phone in the house. "Hi, Lily. What's wrong?" Quinn briefly wondered if it _was _selfish to leave her kids with her crazy sister for three days. Lily was clearly fighting back tears.

"She won't let me skateboard, and when I told her to 'back up off my ride now, afores I have to show you how we do in Beverly Heights,' she sent me upstairs and she won't let me wear any of my clothes, she's making me wear all of Emily's old clothes, and she says Aunt S and Aunt B are a bad influence on me, and that if I keep spending time with them I'd end up like them and have to go to hell, which the guy at church today made sound really really scary and I miss you, mommy. Please come home." Lily burst out in tears.

"Baby, I promise you, you are _not _going to hell," Quinn said, trying her best to maintain her comforting voice, while silently seething at her sister. "You are perfect, and wonderful, and there is no way God will look at your beautiful face and send you to hell, even if you tell _him _to back on up," Quinn said, giggling. Her daughter giggled too.

"Okay," she said, sniffling, but at least no longer actively crying.

"I love you so much, baby. Your Aunt S and Aunt B love you so much too. And it doesn't matter to anyone if you end up like them, okay?"

"Okay. But mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't understand what that means…what's wrong with Aunt B and Aunt S?"

"Nothing's wrong with them, baby. Aunt Franny is just a little crazy."

"She probably just doesn't want me to be as pretty as Aunt B and Aunt S, right?" Quinn began to laugh through the tears she had been holding back listening to her daughter cry.

"You're already as pretty as them. I promise, we will be back tomorrow, and you won't ever have to stay at Aunt Franny's ever again, okay?"

"Okay," Lily whimpered out.

"Where is Harper?" Quinn asked.

"Napping," Hannah said.

"Well, can you tell her I love her and I miss her and I can't wait to see her tomorrow?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Hannah said.

"Okay, Lily, can I have a word alone with Hannah?"

"Okay," Lily replied meekly.

"I miss you so much, and don't listen to anything Aunt Franny says from now on? Promise me?"

"I promise."

"And if it gets too hard, just practice Aunt S's lines in your head." Quinn couldn't believe she was saying it, but anything to get her little girl through the next two days.

"Okay," Lily said, starting to giggle a little.

"And if it gets any harder, you have my phone number and you know you can call me, anytime, right?"

"Okay, mommy. I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. See you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too." She heard the phone click.

"Hannah?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"Can you watch out for your little sisters for me?"

"I'm trying, but I think Aunt Franny's crazy, mom."

"I know she is."

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Aunt Franny means that Lily will go to hell if she ends up like Aunt B and Aunt S because they're gay?" Quinn's heart dropped to her stomach like a rock at this realization from her daughter. "Because grandma and grandpa say the same thing, and I once heard them talking about why you still spent time with those lesbians when you had made such a nice life for yourself. And lesbian is a gay lady, right?" Quinn had no idea what to say to her daughter as she heard her voice trail off.

"Yes, lesbian is a gay lady." Quinn said. "And yes, your Aunt B and Aunt S are gay." She didn't think it was necessary to go into the particulars of Brittany's bisexuality to her 8 year old at this point.

"Well, I know that, mom, I'm like 8. They're like married and in love and stuff."

"Okay. So, I'm just going to assume you also know that there is nothing wrong, or different, or bad about being gay."

"I figured. I mean, my friend Julie has two moms, and Uncle Kurt is gay, right? And Aunt B and Aunt S make each other super happy, especially when they do it, and they, like, seem happier than any other parents I know. They're, like, way happier than you and dad, and why should being happy send you to hell?"

"You're way too smart for your age," Quinn said, choking back the knot that had formed in her throat."

"I know," Hannah said. Quinn smiled.

"Just do your best taking care of them, okay? If anything comes up call me, and when I get back tomorrow we can do movie night, your choice movie _and _your choice pizza, and we can have a sleepover in my room."

"Really?" She could hear her daughter's eyes light up. "But it's a school night."

"Well, it's your reward for putting up with a hard weekend, and being such a good big sister."

"Thanks, mom."

"You're welcome. Remember to tell Harper I love her."

"I will."

"I love you, Hannah."

"Love you too, mom."

"Can you put Aunt Franny back on?"

"Okay. Bye, mom!"

"Hello?" Franny said.

"Franny. I swear to god. Get Lily out of whatever god awful pink mess you made your daughter wear when she was her age and let her wear her own clothes. She's a crying wreck. All I ask is that you not badmouth my life to my children, and not badmouth the family that has actually been there for them all their lives, for the next 24 hours and then you won't ever have to worry about babysitting again." Quinn hung up before she could hear the response.

* * *

Brittany gently kissed the red marks on Santana's wrists, as Santana let out a contented sigh.

"I didn't let it go too long?" Brittany asked. Santana just shook her head, and then turned to bury her nose in Brittany's blond hair.

"You're sweaty." Santana said, simply.  
"You're sweaty too," Brittany said.

"Maybe we should take a shower?" Santana smirked into Brittany's hair.

"That's the second best idea you've had all day. Right after taking a nap," Brittany said, clamoring out of bed naked and rushing toward the bathroom door. Santana admired her wife's body. "You coming?" Brittany asked.

"I have a feeling I will be soon," Santana said, sauntering toward the bathroom.

* * *

Rachel could live without Martini's. They weren't terrible…but they also weren't the most delicious thing she had tasted before. Manhattans—now, they were terrible. She had to dump half of it down the sink. She was now nursing a miniature Cosmopolitan which may have been the best thing to happen to her. Pink, a little sweet and a little tart. She took another delicious sip. She wondered how many times she had been down this path before—deluding herself into believing someone had legitimate feelings for her, when really they were using her to get something. Finn, Jesse St. James, her first college boyfriend, Laura from A Chorus Line…the list could go on forever. And now Quinn to deal with her loneliness. Like every time before this one, she had a thousand reasons glaring her in the face as to why she should remove herself from the situation before she was hurt, yet again. Quinn was straight, married, lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills with her three children. Quinn had not expressed any desire to change that, or even a desire to date her. She only expressed a desire to continue…to continue what? To continue spending time together and occasionally hooking up drunkenly. If Quinn enjoyed it, wouldn't that make her not straight? And Quinn's marriage was definitely on the rocks. She kicked herself for rationalizing Quinn's behavior. Although, Quinn was right what did she have to lose? Her head was starting to hurt from all the sugar in the cosmopolitan…she flipped through the book to a random page. Lemon Drop!

* * *

Quinn laid back on the boat, allowing the late afternoon sun to waft over her. All of her actions of the day had been a bit of a haze for her—she couldn't remember the last time she had felt such a range of conflicting emotions in such a short period of time. She had been so angry when she woke up, and then so complacent with Rachel earlier, and now she felt so…lost again. It was a feeling she was beginning to become accustomed to. That sense that she was meandering through her life with no direction as to where she was headed. She groaned out loud, alone on her boat. Had she really just propositioned Rachel that they just roll with the punches? It sounded like something Puck would have said when they were sixteen years old. The truth was, Quinn didn't know what she wanted to do, and it was better to roll with the punches than be forced to make a decision. She closed her eyes and thought of her daughter, crying, alone in her sister's house. She couldn't really hate her sister—their parents had fucked both of them up. Quinn was sixteen before anyone ever told her that it was okay to be herself, no matter what. By then, it was too little, too late. How could she expect her sister to behave any differently. At least Lily was young and hopefully wouldn't remember the cruel thoughts her sister had about her at such a young age. Quinn opened her eyes as realization dawned on her. She had cheated on her husband. It wasn't some obscure, hard to define feeling she'd been dealing with for the last few months. It was an action, cemented in the world. She had sex with someone other than her husband. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. She felt like such a hypocrite—she was so disgusted with her sister for the cruel things she said about Brittany and Santana and Lily, yet the fact that the person she had cheated on his with was a woman was something she wasn't able to acknowledge yet.

* * *

Santana leaned back against Brittany in their post shower bath.

"That was the best idea of the day, San," Brittany said. "Definitely better than our nap." Brittany waited for a response, and frowned a little at the silence of the brunette in front of her. She leaned her head down so she could see Santana's face. She was asleep, a small smirk curled on the edges of her lips. Brittany nudged her gently.

"Hm?" Santana asked, her voice groggy.

"My fingers are getting wrinkly. Let's get up and make dinner."

"Okay," Santana said, still not moving.

"Sa-an," Brittany whined.

"Okay, okay, I'm up. Let's go make dinner." They climbed out of the bathtub.

* * *

"What have you been doing all afternoon?" Santana asked as Quinn entered the kitchen.

"I went out on the boat. You know, to clear my head. I called my kids." Quinn said.

"How are the little devils doing?" Santana asked. "I pray that Lily has given your bitch sister at least six black eyes by now. Or perhaps distributed her black eyes to your bitch sister's bitch children."

"It's not good," Quinn said. "Franny is making Lily wear those grotesque pepto-bismol colored dresses she put her kids in when they were little and she took away her skateboard." Quinn paused, wondering whether or not it was appropriate to include the next part. "Anyway, Lily was crying, because Franny took her to church and told her that she should stop spending time with you two, otherwise she would end up like you and go to hell." Brittany and Santana stopped paying attention to their cooking. "Lily didn't know what Franny was talking about, thankfully. You'll appreciate this, San. She asked if Franny was worried that she would end up as pretty as you two." Santana smiled, but it was clear her smile was filled with a sense of sadness and nostalgia.

"Well, we're going to be finished with dinner in about twenty," Santana said softly.

"Okay. I'm going to take a quick shower then. Where's Rachel?" Quinn asked. Santana shrugged.

"We assumed she was with you." Brittany said. Quinn shook her head and silently walked to her room. Santana checked on the vegetable and soyrizo Paella. She felt Brittany slide behind her and slip her arms around her waist. Brittany kissed her cheek.

"We're not there anymore, San," she said.

"I know," Santana said, softly, leaning into her wife's arms. "It still makes me sad though. Will you go find Berry?"

"Of course," Brittany said.

* * *

Brittany finally found Rachel leaning against the bar in Quinn's basement.

"Rachel," she said softly, taking in the sight of her friend slowly sipping on a bright blue cocktail.

"Hey, Britt." Rachel said.

"Are you drinking?" Brittany said, the hint of concern barely discernable in her usual deadpan tone.

"I'm learning how to make mini-drinks so I can server them to all the producers whom are sure to come wooing me after they see my star turn in Spring Awakening."

"You shouldn't be drinking by yourself, Rach," Brittany said.

"Why the fuck not?" Rachel spat back. Brittany took a step back, she wasn't used to her friend speaking to her like that. In fact, she wasn't used to Rachel speaking like that to anyone. "Everyone else around here gets to do whatever the fuck they want to, well, I'm going to join in on the fun too. A life with no consequences, right? Well, then, I'm going to day drink, because fuck everything else." Rachel drank the remainder of her blue drink in one gulp. The two women stood in silence; Rachel stared vacantly into the distance, and Brittany stared at her friend with concern.

"Is this about Quinn?" Brittany finally asked, cautiously.

"No," Rachel said.

"Well, do you want me to get you into bed before she sees you like this?" For the first time in the conversation, Rachel looked up at Brittany. She immediately felt bad for the words she had said to her friend. Brittany didn't deserve her displaced anger. Brittany had never been anything but kind and understanding to Rachel. In fact, Brittany had never been anything but kind and understanding to anyone. Looking into those blue eyes wavering with worry, Rachel began to somewhat understand why Santana could never say no to her.

"Thanks, Brittany." Rachel said, stumbling off of her bar stool. Brittany led her upstairs. Rachel didn't want to look at Santana as they passed the kitchen, but she could feel Brittany and Santana make the briefest of eye contact. Brittany helped Rachel take her clothes off and tucked her in.

"Brittany?" Rachel called as Brittany shut the light to the room.

"Yeah?" Brittany said softly.

"Thanks."

"Of course," Brittany said.

* * *

"Where's Rachel?" Quinn asked as they brought dinner out to the table.

"She went to bed," Brittany said quickly.

"Is she okay?" Quinn asked. Santana opened her mouth to respond, but Brittany cut her off before she got the chance.

"She's fine. Just tired." Santana looked at Brittany questioningly but decided not to push it. The three women sat down to dinner and talked about their plans once they returned to LA.

* * *

Brittany sat in front of the mirror in the bedroom that had been temporarily theirs for the last few nights. Santana stood above her, playing with her hair. Brittany looked up into the mirror, catching Santana gazing at Brittany's reflection. A soft smile played on Santana's lips.

"You're beautiful, Brittany." Santana said, simply.

"Not as beautiful as you," Brittany replied, catching her wife's reflection in the mirror. Santana placed a soft kiss on Brittany's head. "I know that look, San."

"What look?"

"That…I need to talk about my feelings and have no idea how I'm supposed to go about it look." Brittany said. Santana lay herself onto the bed.

"You know me too well."  
"It's only taken 15 years," Brittany smirked.

"I don't know…Quinn is just making me so…so…sad." Santana struggled out. "And hearing her say those things that Lily heard…it just brings me back, you know?" Brittany nodded.

"You can't let it get to you, honey."

"I know. It's just knowing that Quinn is scared, and knowing that Lily may one day be scared, forces me to remember when _I _was scared…and you know Santana Lopez doesn't do scared." Brittany smiled.

"Santana _Pierce_-Lopez."

"Well, _she _definitely never gets scared." Brittany turned and kissed Santana's cheek. "Definitely never nearly as scared as Santana _just _Lopez got."

"I can make the scared go away," Brittany whispered in Santana's ear, "if you let me." Santana turned so her lips barely grazed Brittany's.

"I will _always _let you." Santana pulled her wife in for a kiss.

* * *

Quinn changed into her pajamas in her room, wondering whether she should sleep on the couch, or just crawl into bed next to Rachel. It was _her _bed after all, and Rachel was already dead asleep, Quinn could smell the alcohol and she was a good five feet away from the girl, so it wasn't like anything could happen between them. Quinn crawled into bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Rachel groaned, blinking out the morning light.

"Hey," Quinn said softly. Rachel allowed her eyes to focus on Quinn's hazel ones.

"You know, it's creepy to watch someone sleeping." Rachel croaked out.

"I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing, ya lush," Quinn replied, a glimmer in her eyes. "I also wanted to tell you," Quinn paused, taking in a deep breath, "that I did a lot of thinking yesterday, and you are right. We should talk about what's going on."

"Well, I did a lot of thinking yesterday too, Quinn, and I think you were right. There's no point in talking about it. A talk will either result in a broken heart or delusions that you will break up your perfect life for one with me. Both of which are paths I've been on before and I don't care to go down again. Sometimes it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie."

"The only problem with that idiom, Rach, is that this dog is very much awake and barking." The two shared a heavy silence before Quinn got up and walked into the bathroom without a word.

* * *

The drive back to LA was almost entirely silent, with the exception of Brittany occasionally talking Santana into playing I Spy, until Rachel would stop them, frustrated. Rachel wasn't even sure you could call it I Spy…

"I spy something brown!" Brittany said.

"My eyes." Santana said.

"Yay! Okay, I spy something green."

"The highway signs." Santana replied, emotionless. Every twenty minutes or so it would start up again. Rachel assumed that this would bother Santana, but Santana didn't even seem aware that they were playing the game.

"Do they go on roadtrips a lot or something?" Rachel asked. Quinn shrugged.

"We went to Vegas and Mexico a lot in college…"

* * *

"Thank god we're home!" Santana said as Brittany and Santana walked into Rita's house. "Where are my babies?" Rita led them toward the kitchen where her teenage children were playing with the twins. Santana immediately grabbed Olivia and nuzzled into her head. "I missed you so much, you know that? Mami is never leaving again." She kissed the top of Nico's head, who was now in Brittany's arms. They took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Rough weekend?"

"It had its ups and downs." Santana replied.

"What happened?" Rita asked.

"Do you remember that summer San and I stayed here?" Brittany asked.

"Obviously."

"Well, the ups were the parts of the summer _after _we started dating…"Santana said.

"Well, I'm glad to see that having children hasn't dimmed the romantic spark in your relationship…" Rita said, cautiously, not wanting to unintentionally set up her niece's wife for one of her notorious overshares.

"And the downs were the parts of the summer _before _we started dating."

"I'm not sure I'm following you…"

"Rachel and Quinn. They're like…like…winning the gay angst trifecta or something…" Rita raised an eyebrow at Brittany and then at Santana.

"She's really been pushing to go to the Santa Anita race tracks. She's learning how to bet." Santana said.

"It's just so much awesome, San. Horses? Awesome. Gambling? Awesome. Cheap beer? Awesome. So much awesome." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Baby, do you not remember the last time we went to Vegas?"

"No, not really."

"Do you remember where the money you made working on that Willow Smith video went?" Brittany blushed.

"Oh, yeah."

"Anyway…" Rita interjected, more than used to these tangents. "Back to your weekend?"

"Seriously, Britt is right, racetrack metaphor aside. It was like watching High Art, the Children's Hour, and the Hours rolled into one. If you threw in an annoying Jennifer Schechter into the mix."

"Terrible." Brittany said.

"I'm confused." Rita said. "Isn't Quinn married? And since when is Rachel gay?"

"She's bisexual," Brittany said.

"And yes, Quinn is married. Precisely the reason for the angst."

"Well I'm sorry you guys had to deal with that." Santana shrugged.

"All that time alone with Britt made up for it." She smiled over at her wife. "Anyway, we should get going. I can't thank you enough for babysitting, I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Peep, anytime."

* * *

Quinn pulled up in front of Rachel's apartment. She shut the engine to the car.

"I really think that we should talk, Rach. I'm sorry I blew you off yesterday, but I was just so confused."

"You know what, Quinn? You've been in the same relationship for twelve years. You have no idea about relationships being confusing. They don't change that much from high school, only the stakes are higher. I've spent _years _navigating my way through failed relationships, broken hearts, and broken egos. Every time I can feel the skin on my back growing a little thicker, the shell around my heart getting a little tougher to break through. I've come to the conclusion that the delicate balance between the heart and the head is a myth reserved for fairytales and that there is no right answer. I've been broken too many times to believe otherwise."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying," Quinn said as Rachel got her bag out of the trunk and walked to the driver's side of the car.

"I'm saying, that I'm not going to talk about this and put my feeling out there to get squashed on. I don't…no I _can't _care anymore about what everything means and what everyone feels and the consequences of every single action I make. It's too much…and I'm tired, and I'm lonely, and…" Rachel stood on her tiptoes and leaned into Quinn's passenger side window, catching her lips in a hard, fiery kiss. Quinn didn't move out of shock. She also didn't pull away. Rachel leaned back on her heels. "I'm just going to roll with the punches." Rachel said. She picked up her bag and walked toward her apartment, leaving a shocked Quinn sitting in her car.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for your great reviews! I really appreciate them! Next update will be soon!

* * *

It was funny how easily Quinn fell into a routine. It only took two weeks since they had left Big Bear. Quinn eyed her perfectly done makeup in the mirror and straightened her dress. She pulled on the corners of the comforter on her bed to make sure the corners were tight. It was still dark when she went downstairs and turned the coffee on. She went outside to get the newspaper, and by the time she came back in and had gotten her yogurt-granola mix ready, the coffee was done. She poured herself a cup, ate her breakfast, and read half of the paper. She checked her watch after putting her bowl in the dishwasher. It was exactly six, and the sun was beginning to slowly peak behind the mountains. Hannah would brush her teeth while she woke Lily. Lily would brush her teeth while she woke Harper. Harper brushed her teeth while she helped Lily dress. The two older girls would pack their backpacks while she helped Lily get dressed. Quinn would brush the hair of all three. They would watch twenty minutes of cartoons while she cooked breakfast. Quinn packed lunch while they ate. Quinn buckled them in the back of her SUV and drove to school, and then followed the same path back to her empty house. She poured the rest of the coffee into a cup, now cold, added some ice, and finished the paper.

* * *

"Today's your big Quinn day, right?" Brittany asked.

"Sí," Santana replied.

"What are you going to say?"

"No sé."

"¿Por qué se habla español?" Brittany asked. Santana's eyes widened.

"Your Spanish is getting good, Britt!"

"Intento…" Brittany replied. "Anyway, why are you speaking in Spanish?"

"I want to make sure the kids can speak it…and I don't know what I'm going to say to Quinn. Like, 'look, Q, you're doing about as good a job at concealing your craving for some carpet as Kurt pretending to like pussy while he did the Single Ladies dance on our high school football field. So I suggest we slaughter the pink elephant that is your sexuality and talk about your bizarre fixation with that annoying midget…' that's all I've got so far…" Brittany just shook her head.

"I know you still hate the feeling monster, San. Maybe try remembering how you felt when you were realizing you were gay?"

"It was so long ago, though, Britt."

"I know, but I also know that you still remember it, and, more importantly, sometimes you still _feel_ how alone you felt back then why you see Quinn struggling. Just use all of those feelings to talk to Quinn. Be that teenager who wouldn't talk to anyone and painted her room black." Santana frowned and played with her food. "Use the feeling monster, honey, don't fight it."

"I hate the feeling monster."

"I know you do." Brittany put her hand on Santana's cheek and gave her a peck on the lips.

"Gracias, mi cariño, te amo."

"Te amo, también. No ser una perra hoy? Sí?" Santana rolled her eyes, wondering where in the world Brittany had picked up Spanish curse words.

"No escuchar a su mamá," Santana said, petting Olivia's head. "She has a dirty mouth."

"Perra." Olivia said. Santana rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Santana." Quinn said, holding the puppy in her arms. "This is literally the cutest puppy I have ever seen in my life." Santana beamed.

"See! I told you. I'd been considering getting her a puppy for her birthday, but after the whole let's have a baby debacle, I decided I really needed to do it." Santana petted the puppy.

"You pretend to be so tough," Quinn said, "but you just turn into Jello around babies and puppies." Quinn smiled.

"They're cute, okay?" Santana said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not my fault. Plus, she's a Pitbull-German Shepherd…she's kind of like me…"

"I have no idea what that is supposed to mean."

"Well, she'll look super fierce when she's not a little puppy, but everyone knows that Pitbulls aren't any more aggressive than any other dog if you don't train them to be. So people will be scared of her, but everyone close to her will no she's just a softie." Santana explained.

"Did you just admit that you're a 'softie' on the inside?" Quinn asked, using air quotes. Santana blushed.

"You tell anyone and I _will _cut you. I mean it this time, Q."

"You're too cute for words, sometimes, Santana Pierce-Lopez." Santana shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to start filling out the paperwork so I can be sure we'll have her next week in time for B's birthday."

"Okay," Quinn said, burying herself into the puppy's soft fur.

* * *

It was difficult talking Quinn into parting with the puppy, but eventually they were on the road away from the animal shelter.

"So…just so you know…" Santana began as they drove to one of her favorite Mexican restaurants, "I'm going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone." She continued, quietly.

"Oh my god." Quinn replied. "Did something happen with Brittany? Did you screw up again, because I thought we had left those days back at USC."

"It's worse."

"How could it be worse?"

"You know how I go to the gym all the time?"

"Yeah." Quinn raised an eyebrow wondering where this could possible be going.

"It's because I'm addicted to carnitas." Quinn lightly hit her friend.

"I hate you! I thought you were serious."

"I am being serious! I sneak out of the office at least once a week to come to the east side to find the best carnitas in the city. I love them."

"Gross. Doesn't that mean 'little meats'? And aren't they cooked in like, lard?"

"Yes, which is why I have to go to the gym so often! And it's just pork, Q, and we all know how you love your pork. Anyway, I'm taking you to one of my favorite restaurants, and you _will_ be trying the carnitas burrito, wet."

"What does 'wet' mean?"

"Sauce and cheese on the outside."

"I guess I just have to trust you then."

"You'll see, Q, your world is about to change."

* * *

"This isn't real." Quinn said with a mouthful of burrito.

"I assure you, Quinn, this is 100% real."

"No. I don't even recognize this meat. I don't even understand how meat that is not bacon can possibly taste this good."

"I told you…greatest carnitas burrito in the city. Besides, I knew you would like it, it's still a pork product."

"And the sauce on the outside! Whoever thought of putting sauce on the _outside _of a burrito? I want to marry whomever came up with this idea."

"I told you, it is always better wet." Santana was about to come up with a vulgar yet witty afterthought to that statement, when she realized that perhaps her food analogies could be put to better use at the moment. "Which brings me to the other reason I thought it would be good if we had a girl's day today, Q." Quinn eyed her skeptically. "It's come to my attention lately…I mean, I've started to notice…oh fuck it, Q. I'm just gonna put it out there. You seem to be liking your pork _and _your wet burritos, lately." Santana rolled her eyes to herself, realizing that this may have not been the best way to broach the subject. Quinn stared at her in shock for a moment, her mouth full of burrito. She had become skillful over the years, though, at deflecting attention away from awkward moments.

"That would have worked better if I'd been eating a wet taco, Santana," Quinn said, taking another bite. "A burrito is kind of phallic."

"There's no such thing as a wet taco, though." Quinn raised her eyebrows.

"And here I was, thinking that you had such a great sex life all these years." Santana glared at her.

"I meant in _food_, Quinn. God. You can't even imagine how wet…"

"Stop." Quinn said, putting her hand up. "I know I brought it on myself, but I _do not_ want to know." Santana smirked and took a sip of her margarita.

"I know you were trying to change the subject, Q…and I know that even after all of these years, it's still not the most natural for us to, you know, have serious conversations. It never was my strong suit. We're alike in that way, Q. We both shove everything under the rug until the rug becomes a feeling monster that we have to fight off." Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Did Brittany tell you to say that?" Santana rolled her eyes.

"The _point_ here, Q, is that this is the reason we fought so much in high school. It's also, I think, the reason we became so close in college. We can talk and then release our anger at the feeling monster out on a fist fight with one another."

"Enough, with the feeling monster, Santana," Quinn said, taking a gulp of margarita.

"It works when Brittany says it?"

"I'm sure it does. You, however, sound absolutely ridiculous."

"Seriously, Quinn. We've always talked about everything. I'm not blind and I'm not dumb and I want you to know that you can always talk to me about whatever is going on with you and Rachel." Quinn's face hardened.

"I find it insulting, Santana, that you are so quick to assume that I am cheating on my husband with Rachel. Just because my marriage isn't the picture-perfect dream marriage you and Brittany have doesn't mean that I would do that to Justin. I'm not a teenager anymore, and I would have hoped you could see how much I've grown."

"Woah, Q, that's not what I am saying at all. I _never_ assumed you were sleeping with Rachel and I didn't say anything about you cheating on your husband. I assumed you had feelings for her, but I hope by now you know that I respect you enough to also never jump to the conclusion that you were being in anyway dishonest with your husband. You know that my relationship with Brittany has had many ups and downs, just like any relationship. We just happen to be at an up while you're at a down. When it's been the opposite, you have always helped me through it, even though sometimes you had to drag the conversations out of me kicking and screaming."

"Why did you want to talk to me then, if you didn't think I was cheating on Justin

"Well…you kind of inadvertently admitted just now that you _do _have feelings for Rachel."

"So what if I do! I haven't acted on them!"

"I know, Q, and I believe you. I also know, however, how confusing it can be when coming to terms with you're sexuality. It would be dumb of me to assume that it is any easier to realize you may be attracted to women at 30 than it is at 15."

"It doesn't matter," Quinn said, softly. "I'm married. So what if I'm attracted to women as well as men? It's not something I can ever act on." Santana reached across the table and grabbed Quinn's hands. Quinn's eyes locked with Santana's and she was surprised at the sincerity and empathy behind them. It was as though Santana's face, usually all angles, had become soft and inviting. Quinn had seen Santana like this before, usually when things were not going well with Brittany, but she knew it was a rare occasion when her best friend let her walls fall down.

"It matters, Q, because until you deal with it, keeping it a secret will eat you up inside. It's not about dating a woman, or sleeping with a woman, it's about being able to tell your husband that you are attracted to them. There's something cathartic about being able to feel like you're not constantly hiding something. It may not make a difference functionally in your life, but, in some inexplicable way, being able to admit this to the people close to you lifts an enormous weight off of your chest." They sat in silence for a bit.

"We kissed once." They stared at each other, waiting for the other one to say something. Finally Quinn continued. "We were drunk. We kissed. We dealt with it in Big Bear, which is why we were being awkward. Nothing has happened since though, and nothing will."

"Are you doing okay, Quinn?"

"I think so. I'm a little confused, I guess. But like I said, nothing can really come of it." Santana nodded understanding. "Thank you, San."

"Anytime. You know my door is always open." Quinn nodded. "No, literally," Santana said, taking another bite of her burrito, "I think my door is _always _open. Brittany is really paranoid about losing her keys or something…" Quinn laughed and they finished eating their lunch.

* * *

"How did it go with Quinn today?" Brittany asked, walking through the door that evening, still in her dance clothes. Santana was lying on her stomach on the ground playing with Nico and Olivia.

"It was fine," Santana said. "We had lunch and got our eyebrows done."

"I mean, how did your talk with her go?"

"It could have been better."

"What do you mean?" Brittany sat cross-legged on the ground and picked up Nico, gently bouncing him in her lap.

"Well, the minute I brought up the fact that she may have feelings for Rachel, she started ranting about how she was not cheating on her husband. Eventually I got through to her that I didn't think she was cheating, but wanted her to know that I was here for her to talk to."

"Do you think she's cheating on Justin?"

"After that conversation, absolutely. They kissed. She says that's all it was, but I don't know that I believe her."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know that there is anything we can do, B." Santana absentmindedly waved a small stuffed duck at Olivia, who giggled and tried to catch it.

"Mami! Mami!" Olivia giggled. Santana tried her best to stay focused on the conversation and ignore the feeling that her heart was going to burst at the seams every time her children called her mami. _This_ is why she hated feelings in high school…they were making her soft. She didn't even care when Olivia pulled on her perfectly done weave. She caught Brittany smiling at her clear adoration of her daughter.

"Then she went on about how I didn't understand her angst. Which is absurd. It's as though she completely forgot the first like, ten years we were together."

"Well, she's probably just used to seeing you like you are now. Doting mother is a kind of 180 from angsty teenager." Santana nodded, and Brittany's forehead scrunched up in thought. "When they say '180', do you think they mean miles or feet?"

"Degrees, Britt."

"Like temperature?"

"No, like circles..." Brittany still looked confused. "Doesn't really, matter, B. You always hated Geometry." Santana smiled at her. "Anyway, it's not fair of her to just forget that I _know _where she's coming from." Santana squirmed as Olivia played with her ear. " And back in high school, I think maybe we could have called her out on this shit-tlesticks," Santana said awkwardly, catching herself cursing in front of her children again, "it's so much more complicated now. I feel like, unless she comes to me, or I actually catch her and Rachel, I have to keep my mouth shut."

"She knows you're here, though, San. That's what's important."

"I guess."

"Ducky!" Olivia said. Brittany let Nico on the ground and he crawled toward Santana and his sister.

"Ducky!" Nico yelled. Brittany grinned.

"Patito," Santana said, waving the duck in the air. Nico grabbed it.

"Ducky," he said, again.

"Patito," Santana said. Brittany lay down with her head in the small of Santana's back.

"Don't worry, Sany, they'll learn eventually. Tu eres mi patito."

"You really are practicing, aren't you?"

"You know it." Brittany said. "I'm going to be fluent in no time."

* * *

It had always been easy for her to stumble into a routine. Quinn wondered if she had always been like this. She checked her watch as she fumbled with the keys. It was 4:05, she was only 5 minutes late. She felt bad, she really did. She and Santana had actually developed a close relationship since high school, and she knew how much it took for Santana to put herself out there like that. She placed her keys in her purse as she walked up the stairs. She wasn't one who was able to readily deal with the problems in her life though; she wasn't even one to really acknowledge that problems existed. She got to the end of the hall and lightly rapped on the door. Within moments, the door swung open.

"It took you long enough," Rachel said, pulling Quinn in her apartment and slamming the door behind her. Quinn laughed bitterly to herself as Rachel pushed her down onto the couch. "Where were you?" Rachel asked, straddling Quinn on the couch.

"Just running a few errands. Don't worry about it."

"I wasn't," Rachel said, leaning down and pulling Quinn into a passionate kiss.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: **Hello all! Thanks again for your great reviews!

* * *

"I should get going," Rachel said, pulling Quinn's hairbrush through her dark hair. Quinn leaned down and kissed Rachel's bare shoulder. Rachel caught Quinn's gaze in the mirror. "The kids are going to be home soon."

"Don't go," Quinn said, kissing up Rachel's neck. "The kids miss you."

"I miss them too," Rachel said. "It's weird now though…now that we're…you know…"

"Carrying on an illicit affair?" Quinn asked.

"Don't say that, Quinn." Rachel said seriously, briefly catching Quinn's eyes and then letting her eyes quickly flit to the table in front of her. "We don't talk about it, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Quinn asked, trying to negotiate with the sarcasm dripping in her voice. She did her best to soften both her face and her tone. "I'm going to get started on dinner, but I really hope you stay, okay? The kids miss you. Besides, it will raise more eyebrows if all of a sudden we stop spending time together." She looked at Rachel, searching for a response, but her usually animated face was completely free of expression. "Just think about it," Quinn added as she walked out the door.

Rachel fixed her makeup in the mirror and stared into her own deep dark eyes. She always felt too much. It was what always got her into trouble. But Rachel Berry could also do anything she set her mind too, and she had set her mind to do it this time without feelings. She was distracted from her thoughts by the buzz of her phone. She glanced down on the name on the caller ID, "Satan Pierce-Lopez". If Santana was calling her, it was probably an emergency.

"Why, hello, Santana. For what do I owe the pleasure of your conversation this evening?"

"Cut the bullshit, Berry."

"You are obviously out of earshot of your children for once!" Rachel said. "I much prefer your traditional swear words to the odd diversions from them you have concocted lately. Although, I must say, 'fu-weasle-mick-fuzzle-face' was quite the gem."

"Fuck. You. Berry. I don't even know why I _bothered_ calling you for a favor."

"Ah. Santana Pierce-Lopez needs a favor. I cannot _wait_ to hear this."

"Look, Berry, are you going to let me get to my point? I don't know how much longer I can tolerate your asinine rambling."

"Certainly, Santana, feel free to jump in at anytime."

"Look, I wouldn't be calling you if I weren't desperate. I'm sure Quinn has already filled you in on the embarrassingly cheesy details, but just so we're on the same page, I'm getting Brittany a puppy for her birthday—"

"OH MY GOD!" Rachel squealed into the phone, causing Santana to remove the phone an arm length from her ear on the other end of the line. "Quinn did not tell me, as I have not seen her since Big Bear, but I cannot even begin to express to you how I excited I am about this development!"

"Cool your horses, Berry. I was supposed to pick her up tomorrow, and she was going to stay at my Aunt Rita's but she had an emergency business trip and I'm desperate for someone to take the dog until Saturday. I would ask Q, but I'm worried about the girls slipping up and telling Britt."

"I'm no the greatest with animals, Santana," Rachel said, "I mean I love them, obviously. But I've never had a pet before."

"I really need this, Rachel. You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"Okay, text me tomorrow and we'll figure it out."

Santana breathed a sigh of relief when she closed her phone. Sure, it hadn't escaped her that Rachel had claimed to have not spoken to Quinn since Big Bear, which Santana knew was utter bullshit, but she had to put one fire out at time, these days. She left her room and walked to the kitchen where Brittany was preparing dinner. She tried to keep her face neutral when she caught Brittany's annoyed gaze.

"Where have you been?" Brittany said simply.

"I was just in our room," Santana said, picking up Nico and kissing his forehead.

"Well, you know, I could use some help here."

"Sorry, Britt, I had to make a work call, Santana said, unable to hide her own irritation.

"You know I'm working too, Santana."

"I know, Brittany! I just had to make a quick call. I'm here now, what do you want me to do?"

"Nevermind, it doesn't matter now. I don't want you to do anything, Santana. Just sit down and wait for dinner. Like a good husband," Brittany added under her breath.

"What?" Santana said.

"Nothing."

"Don't say 'nothing' when I know you're pissed off."

"I'm not pissed off," Brittany said, her voice softening slightly.

"Okay, well you're annoyed," Santana said, following Brittany's cue and also softening her voice. She placed her son back in his high chair and walked over to her wife. "What's going on?"

"I'm just stressed out with this new music video I'm choreographing, the director is a jerk, and it's hard being away from the house all day. And I know you're busy at work too, plus the added stress of your mother coming next week and planning a party, but sometimes I just wish that when you got home before me you would start dinner. Or, like, ask how my day is."

"What party?" Santana asked.

"Baby, you've thrown me a birthday party every year for the last eleven years. I think the act is up."

"This coming from the woman who still believed in Santa at 17." Brittany rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Britt. I'm sorry, I know I haven't been all here recently." She kissed Brittany's cheek. "I've been really stressed out with work…and your party…" Brittany grinned, "but that's no excuse. Why don't you let me finish dinner and you sit down and tell me about this director."

"Okay," Brittany said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Santana set to work shredding the chicken for the enchiladas. One fire at a time, she reminded herself.

* * *

"Rachel!" Hannah squealed as she walked into the house and found Rachel and her mother cooking dinner. Rachel nearly fell over as all three mini-Quinn's in leotards, tights, and backpacks ran into her with a tight hug. She was tiny and the little girls were fast approaching her in height.

"Where have you been?" Lily asked.

"I've been busy finishing up the movie."

"That's so cool," Hannah said. Rachel grinned.

"Give Rachel some space, girls, you're smothering her," Quinn said, smiling at her children. "How was your day?"

"I hate dance class," Lily said.

"I hate when it's Mrs. Tower's turn to pick us up from dance class. Her car smells funny," Hannah said.

"Okay," Quinn said, "why don't we start with what was good about your day then?"

"Practicing for the school play," Lily said.

"Playing Sharks and Minnows in gym class," Hannah said.

"My day was good, mama," Harper said, wrapping her arms around Quinn's leg. "We sang the alphabet song, and the hokey-pokey, and we got chicken eggs in class that are going to hatch into chickens cause they're in an inbucator-"

"Incubator," Quinn corrected.

"And Samantha let me borrow her cool markers that look shiny, and Mr. Tannenbaum made an egg get sucked into a bottle with a match, and I like dancing." Quinn smiled down at her youngest daughter, and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm glad to hear that, baby. At least someone in this household has a positive attitude!" Lily and Hannah rolled their eyes. "Okay, who has homework?" Silence. "Let me rephrase that, how about we get started on our homework?" More eye rolls from her eldest children.

"How about I help you out with your homework?" Rachel asked.

"And Harper, you can stay here and help me cook." Harper nodded at Quinn, and Rachel led Lily and Hannah to the kitchen table. Harper grabbed her special cooking stool so she could see above the counter.

"I can't wait until I'm big enough to have homework, mommy," Harper said.

"Oh, you say that now, darling." She placed a bowl of marinade in front of her daughter. "Can you stir this slowly for me?" Harper nodded, and then continued telling her mother every detail about her day.

* * *

Santana fed Nico his mashed up, spice-free, version of enchiladas, with her right hand while attempting to send an email to her boss on her cell phone under the table with her left hand.

"Santana." Brittany said.

"Hm?" Santana looked up, knowing she was caught.

"Do you think you could lose the phone for a second, at least while we're eating?"

"Sorry," Santana said, placing the phone on the table. Brittany continued her story about the ducks she'd seen while filming the video in Pasadena. Like clockwork, Santana's phone began to buzz relentlessly. First it lit up for a phone call from her assistant. Then the voicemail. Then an email. Then another email. A text from Mike (no doubt about the party). Then her assistant again.

"Forget it, San." Brittany said, clearly annoyed.

"I'm sorry! I'm turning it off!" She turned off the phone and put her full attention toward her wife. It wasn't ten minutes before the landline rang. They both sat awkwardly as they let it go to voicemail. It rang again. Brittany got up to answer it.

"Hello? Hola, Maria. No, we were just eating dinner. It's no problem. Sure, I'll tell her." Brittany sat back at the table. "It was your mother. She wants you to call you back after dinner." They spent the rest of the dinner in silence.

* * *

"I really have to be leaving, Quinn," Rachel said, taking in another slow, lazy, kiss.

"Why? The kids are asleep, you can just sneak out in the morning." Rachel tried her best to keep her composure, reminding herself, for possibly the thousandth time in 24 hours, that she was doing this without feelings. She sat up in the bed.

"I don't want to risk them catching us. I love them too much for that."

"Fine." Quinn said, simply.

"Want to carpool to Brittany and Santana's Saturday?" Rachel asked, standing up and straightening out her clothes.

"Oh, I thought we talked about this," Quinn said, getting up and walking into the bathroom. "Justin is in town this weekend." Quinn didn't move from her place in the mirror, holding her breath for Rachel's response. She knew perfectly well she hadn't told her. In the doorway to Quinn's room, Rachel could feel her breath hitch in her throat and the tears rush quickly to her eyes. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that there were no feelings involved.

"I must have forgotten." Quinn shut her eyes as she heard her door slam. A few moments later the front door slammed and the sound of a car screeching down the street pierced through her quiet residential neighborhood. Quinn turned on the shower and climbed in, letting the piping hot water wash off Rachel's scent, wash off her shame, her embarrassment. She hated to admit it, but Santana was right, and she had to find someway to deal with all of this. She would come clean with her best friend, regardless of the consequences. Santana had been through this before, she couldn't judge her too much, right?

* * *

Brittany went into her studio to work on some choreography after they put the twins to bed, and Santana cleaned the kitchen and caught up on her emails. She remembered she was supposed to talk to her mother.

"Hola, mami."

"What's going on with you and Brittany?" Her mother asked immediately.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that, young lady."

"I'm thirty."

"Still young compared to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"She sounded sad and annoyed. What did you do?"

"Again, I don't know what you're talking about. And, for the record, I'm so sick of everyone assuming it's something _I _did. You know, Brittany's not perfect, mami."

"First of all, I've known Brittany nearly all of her life, and I know when you're hurting her. Second of all, I don't know when you're going to get it through that thick Lopez skull of yours that you cannot lie to your mother, I _always_ know." Santana groaned.

"It's not a big deal, mom. We're both just trying to get the hang of working and raising two toddlers. It's rough. It's busy. I'm planning this damn birthday party, and we're both stressed out."

"Do something romantic."

"I don't have time, mami!"

"Aye, dios mio, mija, you are insufferable. Go do something for your wife to show her you care and that you love her." Santana didn't respond. Maria rolled her eyes on the other side of the phone, knowing her daughter too well. "Sex doesn't fix everything, mija!"

"Mami!"

"You've been married for almost six years, you've been dating for twelve, and you had extremely conspicuous sex down the hall from me all through high school…"

"Seriously, mom…"

"All I'm saying is that I'm very aware of the fact that you and Brittany have sex. Go do something romantic. I'll call you tomorrow about my plans for when I visit."

"Okay, mami. Te amo."

"I love you too, mija."

* * *

"San?" Brittany yelled out when she walked back into the house. She was probably in their room on her phone as usual. Brittany was surprised when Santana wasn't planted at her desk. "Santana?" Brittany cried out again.

"In here, babe!" Santana called from the bathroom. Brittany walked in and her mouth dropped open.

"San…" The bathroom was filled with nearly every candle they had in the house. There was soft music playing, and the tub was filled with bubbles. Santana was holding a small bouquet of daisies.

"I picked them from the front yard," she said, sheepishly, handing them to Brittany. "I'm sorry things have been a little difficult, lately. I know we both have to get to work early in the morning, but maybe we could take a little time to relax? I'm sure you need a massage after all the dancing you've been doing."

"I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything, babe. Let's just get in the bath." Brittany started to take her clothes off and then stopped, pulling Santana to her and placing a light kiss on her lips.

"I love you so much, do you know that? No matter how hard the day to day stuff gets sometimes."

"You too, baby. More than you'll ever know. Now get in the bath. I owe you a massage."

* * *

Rachel crawled into her bed, not bothering to shower, but still annoyed by the scent of Quinn that lingered on her hair and skin. She couldn't hold back the tears she'd been fighting against for weeks any longer. This wasn't her. She couldn't just compartmentalize her romantic feelings from her sexual feelings. As much as it felt amazing to be so close to Quinn, every time she was forced to acknowledge that she could never have all of her, it felt like a knife wrenching through her heart. She had to end it. She pulled out her phone and quickly sent a text.

Over in Silverlake, Sarah was awoken by her ringtone.

_**Rachel Berry:**_

_Long time, no see. Movie keeping_

_me super busy. Santana's wife's _

_bday party is on Saturday. Wanna_

_go with me__?_

_**Sarah:**_

_I'd love too. And maybe dinner_

_sometime this week? To catch up?_

_**Rachel Berry:**_

_Of course. I'll call you tomorrow._


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **Hello, lovely readers. I cannot express enough how much your reviews really just make my day. So many of you have such thoughtful things to say about my writing and this story and I really appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you so much for sticking with this story for so long! And now, another chapter, that will hopefully help us through this ridiculously long hiatus...

* * *

"Everything okay, babe?" Justin asked, rubbing Quinn's hand with his right hand while he steered the car with his left. "You seem tense." Quinn nodded.

"It's always a little stressful when Britt and San throw these big parties. It's a blast from the past, you know?" Justin nodded.

"It's kind of nice, though, you know? Catching up with all our friends from college, and you and your glee club are tighter than any group of high school friends I've ever met. You guys are like family." Quinn scoffed.

"Yeah, an incestuous backwoods family." They both laughed. "You're right though, I should be excited."

"You always have more fun than you expect to." Justin said, reassuringly. Quinn nodded. She was sure she'd have fun if she could somehow finagle her way out of seeing Rachel Berry all night. It did not seem promising.

* * *

Santana checked her phone for the fiftieth time in the last hour. Where the _fuck _was Rachel? She was supposed to be there early with the puppy, but three phone calls and six text messages had all gone unanswered, and the house was starting to fill up. Santana couldn't help but pat herself on the back for this particular party though. She really had outdone herself. She didn't think this much of the glee club had been together since her wedding, let alone this many of the friends they'd made since college and Brittany started her career as a dancer. Seeing Brittany's face as each new guest walked in was infinitely better than the fake surprised faces Brittany had made over the years. The doorbell rang again. Santana shut her eyes and prayed it was Rachel.

"Well I'll be damned," was all Santana could say.

"I told you I'd find a way here," Finn replied, still wearing his signature goofy grin.

"I can't believe you made it all the way from Ohio." Finn shrugged.

"Britt's thirty. It seemed momentous." Santana nodded. "You remember my wife, Michelle?" Santana nodded to the pregnant brunette. "And this is Lucas," Finn said, ruffling the hair of the little boy holding his hand.

"Hi, Lucas, I'm Santana," she said, waving at the little boy. "Jesus, Finn. I thought he was only, like, three." Santana said, raising an eyebrow.

"He takes after his father in height," Michelle said. Finn grinned.

"I've been calling him Frankentoddler." They both shared a laugh.

"Well, come on in, everyone is in the backyard, B is going to be so excited to see you," Santana said, ushering them into the house. As Brittany grabbed Finn in a giant hug, Santana quietly removed herself to send a text message.

* * *

"Rach? Rach! Your phone is buzzing again!" Rachel groaned against the morning light.

"What time is it?"

"One," Sarah said. Rachel jumped up.

"One? Are you serious? In the afternoon?" She looked questioningly at Sarah who simply nodded to her.

"Oh my god. Oh my god! Santana is going to kill me. Santana is going to actually kill me. Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I tried! You just groaned and mumbled. Plus, you're cute when you sleep…"

"Do _not_ try to flirt with me right now, Sarah. I cannot believe I slept this late. I'm not sure I've _ever _slept in this late."

"Well, we were up pretty late last night." Sarah smirked.

"Seriously, Sarah. Santana does _not _mess around. I may actually be dead by this time tomorrow. It was lovely getting to know you, and I hope you will speak of me fondly once I'm gone. Maybe this is a good thing…I'll go down as a legend, a young ingénue who died before the pinnacle of her talent was achieved…"

"Stop being dramatic, Rach, and get ready." Sarah placed a chaste kiss on Rachel's lips. Rachel got up and walked into her closet, changing quickly into an outfit for the party.

"I'm just saying," Rachel said as she pulled a shirt over her head, "going out big like James Dean, or Kurt Cobain, or Eva Peron, may not be the worst idea career wise…"

"You're such a drama queen…get dressed. I'm going to walk Lola so we don't have a repeat of the car peeing incident."

"Marvin Gaye, Judy Garland, Sam Cooke, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, John Lennon, Billie Holiday, Jim Morrison, Elliott Smith, Jeff _and _Tim Buckley…" Rachel trailed on.

"GET DRESSED!" Sarah yelled from downstairs. "And stop being so morbid!"

* * *

"Aunt B!"Lily crashed into Brittany's leg, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, Aunt B!" Hannah said, hugging her other side. Brittany shifted Nico on her hip once a third girl grabbed her around the middle.

"Thanks guys!"

"Okay, girls, give Aunt B some space," Quinn said, gesturing for her daughters to back off. Quinn leaned in and gave Brittany a light kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday, B, welcome to the over thirties club."

"Thanks, Q."

"Trust me, it's better than your twenties," Justin added, giving Brittany a hug and a kiss on the cheek as well. Quinn glanced nervously around the yard while Brittany and Justin made small talk.

"I'm going to go say hi to Finn, okay?" She asked, catching his eye. He simply nodded, and Quinn walked toward Finn and his wife.

"Thirty," Brittany said, "it's a whole new ballgame."

"As though every decade isn't?" Justin replied.

* * *

Santana held Olivia's hand, letting the toddler guide her around her house at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Mami, mami, up!" She said. Santana was more than happy to comply, lifting Olivia on to her hip and straightening the pink headband in her blond curls. Olivia pulled at her weave. The house was pretty much full by now with guests circulating the backyard and the kitchen. Brittany walked in and raised an eyebrow at her wife pacing in the living room.

"I've been looking for you," she said, holding Nico on her hip.

"Sorry," Santana replied, giving Brittany a light peck. "Go outside and enjoy the party. Berry said she needed to talk to me about something when she got here so I'm just waiting for her."

"Rachel needed to talk to you about something?"

"No." Nico said. Brittany laughed.

"That's just what I was thinking." Brittany said, nuzzling into her son's dark curls. Santana shrugged.

"I don't know, but I told Berry I would, so here I am." Brittany looked questioningly at her wife, but decided to drop it.

"Okay. You want to go outside, Nic?"

"No."

"You want to stay inside with Mami?"

"No."

"You want something to eat?"

"No."

"He's _so _your son," Brittany laughed and took him outside.

Santana's phone finally buzzed.

"Thank god you're here, Britts been asking questions." Santana said as she walked out the door.

"Just come outside."

"Say hi to Aunt Berry, Livi," Santana said when they got to Rachel's car.

"Hi!" Olivia said, waving at Rachel.

"Oh, come here, you," Rachel said, taking Olivia from Santana.

"She's gotten so big since the last time I saw her," Sarah said. Santana nodded.

"It's crazy, right? I though infants were bad, but now they're walking all over the house…I'm a nervous wreck." Rachel laughed.

"Okay," Santana said. "Here's how this is going to work. Sarah, you go in first, make sure the coast is clear. I'll follow with the dog crate, and Berry will follow behind me with Olivia. I'll go in my room, Rachel, you'll stand guard, and Sarah, you'll distract Brittany. We'll stash the crate, I'll get the puppy in the basket, and then give it to Brittany and then she'll love me forever. Got it?"

"I'm pretty sure she already loves you forever, Santana."

"We'll this is like the final nail or whatever. And thanks for stashing the dog for me, Berry."

"Anytime, you know I'm always happy to assist in a grand romantic gesture. It's so 1950's Hollywood. Or 1990's television." Rachel said. Santana just rolled her eyes.

* * *

Santana took a deep breath as they walked into the backyard and she caught sight of Brittany. Santana held the basket close to her chest, so that the puppy didn't pop its head out.

"I wanted to give you your birthday present before anyone else got a chance to one up me." Santana said, approaching Brittany from behind and whispering in her ear. "Give Nico to Sarah." Santana said.

"But, I…"

"Please, B, trust me." Brittany handed their son to Sarah.

"Okay, now sit down." Brittany lowered herself into the grass and Santana put the basket between them. "Now turn around, B," Santana said. Brittany swiveled in the grass.

"Oh," Brittany said. "You got me a picnic basket."

"No," Santana said, chuckling. Just then Lola popped her head out from under the blanket in the basket.

"Is that a…San…is that…did you…oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" Brittany tackled Santana to the ground. "Puppy! You got us a puppy!" Brittany pulled the dog out of the basket and nuzzled her. Brittany looked at the tags. Lola Pierce-Lopez.

"They already named her at the shelter, I thought it would be easier to keep the name…"

"Lola is an adorable name, San, and I don't care about the name, I'm just so excited that we have a puppy!" Brittany yelped, placing kisses all over Santana, but quickly redirecting her attention toward the new puppy. Santana beamed at Brittany who was grinning and snuggling the little dog. Rachel and Sarah joined them on the ground, letting the babies crawl over to their mothers. Lola sat, her head to the side, looking inquisitively at the toddlers who were both on all fours staring at the dog. Brittany giggled at the strange exchange. Finally Nico reached his little arm out and patted the puppy's nose. He put his hand back on the ground. Olivia followed her brother's cue and patted the dog's nose as well. Lola leaned forward and gave a big, sloppy, lick to both of their cheeks. Both children collapsed in laughter as the puppy stumbled over to them tickling both of their faces. Brittany lay her head on Santana's shoulder.

"I think they like each other," Santana said, kissing the top of Brittany's head. Rachel snapped a picture.

* * *

"Justin! Long time, no see!" Santana said, pulling Justin in for a quick hug.

"I know!" Justin said as they pulled apart. Santana placed Nico on the ground and let him crawl around her feet, playing with Harper and Lily. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day that you would be so settled…two children _and _a dog."

"What can I say?" Santana asked. "I may be growing up."

"Unlikely," Quinn scoffed. "You just never developed the ability to say no to Brittany."

"True," Justin said. "But still. I still see you as that little freshman crying in your twin bed in that tiny dorm you two had because you had gotten drunk the night before and pushed Brittany away."

"Or flirted with a cheerleader."

"Or didn't tell her you loved her enough."

"Okay, that's about enough with my collegiate history." Santana interjected. Justin laughed.

"It's just nice to see we've come so far." He said, pulling Quinn tightly to him, and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Lily tugged on the hem of Santana's shirt.

"Hey, Bug," Santana said, looking down at the little girl and lifting her son onto her hip. "What's up?"

"Do you have a name?" Lily asked. Santana looked at the little girl, confused.

"What do you mean, do I have a name?"

"Well, mom always calls you Aunt B and S. Do you have a real name?" Santana laughed quietly at this. "Like…a name that's not just a letter?" Lily added.

"Yeah, Lil," Santana said, chuckling to herself. "My name is Santana Pierce-Lopez, and Aunt B's name is Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez."

"You have really long names…is that why mom shortens them?"

"I don't know…you're mom has always shortened our names…even before your Aunt B and I had that long hyphenated last name." Lily nuzzled into Santana's hip, scrunching up her forehead, not sure what hyphenated meant.

"I hope I end up like you, Aunt S…Aunt San-tana…you're like…the coolest grownup I know. Also…your name is funny." Santana laughed.

"I was named after a famous guitarist, Lil. I'll give you some of his music before you leave, okay?" Santana kissed the top of Lily's head. "And you don't want to be just like me. You're going to be your own, strong, Lily Fabray-Scott one day." Justin grinned at his daughter.

"I'm going to go get some food. Anyone want anything?" Quinn asked abruptly. Everyone shook their heads and Quinn walked away.

"Daddy, can we go see the puppy?" Lily asked, looking up at Justin.

"Of course," he said. "Now I'm going to have to get my kids a dog," he whispered over to Santana as they walked towards Lola.

"Well, at least you won't actually have to take care of it," Santana said to her son once Justin was out of earshot. "Let's go get something to eat."

* * *

Santana stood by the table, trying to juggle her son and a handful of chips. Throwing large parties still stressed her out, and stress resulted in the copious consumption of greasy, salty food.

"You make me sick, Lopez."

"Oh, well it's good to see you too, Puckerman," Santana said, plastering a fake cheerleading grin on her face. "Welcome to my house. Eat my food. Take advantage of my hospitality. I obviously don't need to tell you that you're welcome to drink anything you'd like…I can see you've already figured that one out." Santana gestured to the beer in Puck's hand. Puck opened his mouth to speak. "And before you say anything, Puck," Santana said, cutting him off, "Nico repeats pretty much everything said to him, so keep it PG."

"F-U-C-K you, Lopez. You still make me sick."

"And why is that?"

"I just can't stand to see you all domesticated and shittizzlepants."

"Whatever, Puckerman. Look at how happy Brittany is." They glanced over at Brittany who was sitting in the grass with Olivia, Lily and Lola, giggling. "Besides, you came with a _hot _piece of…you know. I don't see why you're wasting your time complaining to me."

"I mean, girl is banging, Santana, obviously. She's some model. Dumb as a box of rocks, though."

"Don't tell me, the Puckasaurus actually wants a meaningful relationship? With like…feelings? Or worse…the dreaded…commitment?"

"Oh F you, Santana. Look at our friends! Rachel, Kurt, Sam and I are like the only ones not settled down. And Rachel is certifiably insane, Kurt and Sam are gay, which everyone knows means he gets an extra ten years before he has to settle down, and that just leaves me. I mean, we were kind of the same in high school, Santana. Slept with everyone, didn't do sex with feelings, yet somehow, here you are, with a wife, two kids, and now a dog, and I'm as alone as ever."

"I am literally without words, Noah. Literally. Why don't you go talk to my Aunt Rita? You two always seem to hit it off. Maybe it will bring you back to reality?"

"Fu-duck you, Santana. And you're right. Maybe I just need an older woman to set me back on track." Puck stumbled off to Rita.

"What is happening?" Santana mumbled under her breath to her son. She looked up and saw Quinn at the other end of the table, her eyes fixed in a death glare at Rachel and Sarah. Santana rolled her eyes and walked over to her friend.

"Yo, Q." Quinn jumped.

"Jesus, Santana, you startled me."

"You would probably be more aware of your surroundings if you took a break from attempting to make Sarah's head explode with your devil eyes." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, Q, I'm not going to push it," Santana said. Quinn looked at her with a glare that quickly softened when she saw that Santana had that soft, understanding look on her face again. It was a look that had been showing up too frequently, lately. She reached out and took Nico, placing a soft kiss into his curly hair. "I just miss you, okay?" Santana continued. "You're a lot more fun at these things when we're complaining about Sam or making fun of the future Paul Bunyan over there," Santana said, gesturing to Finn's son.

"I know, right? Finn claims that kid is only three. He's bigger than Lily."

"Knowing Finnocence, that boy was born three years before he even met his wife and she just told him you could _literally_ grow a baby in a Petri dish these days…" They both laughed. "See, I miss this, Q."

"Q." Nico said. Quinn smiled and kissed Nico again.

"See? Your godson misses you too."

"Well I don't know what you two are missing. I'm right here, same as I've always been." Santana rolled her eyes and took her son.

"I should go find Britt, and I know I sound like a broken record, but…"

"I know, I know, your door is always open."

"Seriously, Q."

"I know, Santana. I just don't have anything to talk about."

Quinn finally took a bite of her hotdog as Santana wandered in Brittany's direction and then stopped to talk to Mercedes and James. Quinn hated Santana with _feelings._ Santana started seeing a therapist after a particularly bad feelings freak out a year after they had graduated from college. Quinn was fairly certain that Santana still saw her, because there was no way that someone got over the watershed that was Santana's insecurity/commitment/self-loathing homophobia in a just a few sessions, or even in just a few years. The problem was, this hyper-aware of her feelings Santana also had a way of seeing right through Quinn. Quinn took another bite of her hotdog before catching Rachel's eye. She glared at her, only breaking the gaze when she saw Santana's raised eyebrow. She looked around the yard. Lily was still sitting with Brittany, and Justin, Harper and Hannah were with Finn and his family. She had to get out there. It was all too…overwhelming for her. She threw her hotdog in the trash and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

"Are you having a good time, babe?" Santana asked. resting on the grass next to Brittany, who still hadn't left the puppy's side.

"Amazing time," Brittany said, catching Santana's lips in a quick kiss.

"Your little man is getting so big!" Mike said, his eyes wide.

"I know," Santana said, a little sadly, handing her son over to Mike.

"You're almost old enough for me to start teaching you how to pop and lock," Mike said to the baby. "That's how you get the ladies," he whispered.

"Or the gentlemen," Kurt added.

"True. Or the gentlemen. We'll all love you no matter what, little Santittany man."

"Ugh, you guys are so cheesy," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Honey, can you go find Livi her dolphins? She's being fussy." Santana rolled her eyes again. Her daughter was becoming obsessed with her dolphin stuffed animals. Their fins Velcro together like they were holding hands. To be honest, the toy annoyed the crap out of Santana. There was something about the sound of Velcro repeatedly being put together and peeled apart that grated on her nerves. It was Brittany's birthday, though.

"Of course, babe."

* * *

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Quinn asked, as Rachel barged into the bathroom after her. Rachel didn't reply, she just gently shut the door behind her and leaned against it. "What do you want, Rach?"

"I don't want anything."

"Then why are you in here?"

"Well, as flattering as I find it that you keep sending death glares in Sarah's direction, I'm suggesting, for the sake of keeping up our appearances, that it might behoove you to be a bit more subtle."

"What is this, Rach," Quinn said, spinning around so she was facing Rachel. "Some kind of revenge? Are you getting back at me for having the gall to bring my husband to an event instead of you? Because, as I recall, it was you who didn't want to deal with the consequences of our actions."

"It was your idea first."

"What is this? Sixth grade?"

"I'm sorry. Just stop staring." Rachel moved toward the door handle.

"Wait, Rach, I'm sorry," Quinn said, grabbing Rachel's wrist. Quinn leaned forward, pushing the door shut and pressing her body against Rachel's. "I don't like seeing you with her," Quinn whispered into Rachel's ear. Rachel shuddered at the contact, but still allowed her arms to hang limply at her sides, even as Quinn allowed her lips to find Rachel's and pull them into a tight kiss. Rachel moaned back into Quinn's lips. "I don't like the idea of anyone else doing _this_ with you," Quinn continued when the parted for air. She ran her hand up the inside of Rachel's thigh, pleased that all these years after high school Rachel still preferred to wear barely there skirts over pants. Everything in Rachel's body screamed to tell Quinn to stop, to push her away, to head back to the full house. Everything told her to, but for some reason she couldn't will her body to respond.

* * *

Santana was pretty sure that Olivia had been playing with the dolphins that morning before the guests had arrived, so she figured her best bet was in the toy chest in the living room. Santana opened it up and began digging through it. She had insisted on getting a chest to conceal the growing number of brightly colored stuffed animals and weird plastic devices with bells and whistles that were taking over her life. She had envisioned a coffee table that really concealed a giant storage container underneath. Brittany, of course, insisted on a hand made chest with garish paintings of animals and the night sky. Santana hated it. She emptied it completely, but there were no dolphins. She walked down the hall to the nursery, there were stuffed animals everywhere, but it was pretty clear that the dolphins weren't in there either. She stood in the doorway trying to retrace her steps of the morning. The dolphins hadn't been played with in the kitchen, and there would have been no reason to bring them in the guest bathroom. She was playing with Olivia for a bit in their bedroom while Brittany got dressed, so there was a chance they could be in there. She started down the hall toward her room. As she passed the bathroom, she heard the definite sound of someone being shoved against the door and a light moan. She chuckled to herself as she continued on to her bedroom. This was the fun thing about being married to a choreographer. As Brittany and Santana continued to age and saw the party antics of their own peers mellow out, the dancers Brittany choreographed for just got younger and younger. Well, they didn't really get younger…they just stayed the same age…Santana fought against allowing Sam's bad Matthew McConaughey impression into her private thoughts. Regardless, hardly a party would go by without someone hooking up in the bathroom. Santana knew she should stop them, but there was something nostalgic for her to see these early-twenty something's drinking too much tequila and getting in on in (technically) their boss' home. Santana entered her bedroom, and there were the dolphins, right in the middle of the bed. She grabbed them and headed back down the hall.

"STOP!" Santana paused in her steps, hearing the voice yell from the bathroom. Okay, so maybe whatever was going on in there wasn't reminiscent of her early twenties. She considered going in right away, but decided she should wait and see if something serious was going on or if it was just a young lovers quarrel. She cautiously approached the bathroom door.

"We can't do this." Santana stopped again. She knew that voice. That voice had been annoying her for the last fifteen years of her life, there was no way she could mistake it for anyone else. She smirked. Typical late bloomer Berry. She didn't get it on in inappropriate places at the normal age to engage in such behavior, of course. She had to wait until her thirties, with one of _Santana's _employees. This was too good to pass up. She got a little closer to the doorway to see if she could hear the conversation. She was going to give Berry _so _much shit for this.

"I know you want this though." Santana's breath hitched in her throat as she heard the husky response. That was definitely _not_ Sarah.

"Please, stop. This isn't fair." Rachel said. The other voice just huffed in response.

"None of this is fair," Santana still hadn't resumed breathing. The other voice was definitely _Quinn_.

"I'm…I'm falling for you." Rachel said.

"I'm married."

"I know! Exactly, you're _married_, and I couldn't just come here today and watch you parade around with your perfect family pretending that everything is wonderful without backup."

"So that's what Sarah is to you? Backup?"

"It doesn't matter what Sarah is to me, Quinn. What is Justin to you?"

"He's my husband. He's the man I committed to spending the rest of my life with. He's the father of my children."

"Do you love him?" Rachel asked. There was a pregnant silence between the women. Santana still hadn't let out a breath, but she was still frozen in place. "Is he the man you love and want to spend the rest of your life with?"

"I don't understand how I feel anymore."

"Well, I suggest that you figure it out, Quinn."

"Rachel…"

"No. Just no. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I can't _fuck _you everyday," Santana winced at this. She had never heard Rachel sound so angry. "And then turn around and watch you pretend to be with this man."

"Please, Rach," Quinn mumbled out.

"No. I've tried." Rachel barely fought back a sob. "You know how hard I've tried."

"Rachel."

"Get out, Quinn." The doorknob slowly turned and Santana willed her body to move but she was stuck. Quinn's head was down as she walked out the door, gently shutting it behind her. She looked up and her eyes immediately locked with Santana's.

"Santana." They stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say. "I can explain." Santana held her hand up to stop her.

"You should really be more careful," she said, and walked back toward the party.

* * *

"Livi! Mami brought your dolphins!" Brittany said as Santana sat down next to her and handed the stuffed animals to her daughter. Santana leaned over and gave Brittany a long and somewhat overly passionate kiss. "What was that for, San?" Brittany asked as they pulled away, their friends still sitting awkwardly around them.

"It's your birthday. And I love you so, so much, Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

"I love you too, baby." Brittany looked questioningly at her wife, but knew by now when it was time to push, and when it was better to let Santana work through her thoughts.

"So, Sam, tell us about your new boyfriend," Santana said. Lily crawled into Santana's lap. She wasn't going to let Quinn and Rachel ruin Brittany's birthday. She could wait until tomorrow to tell her.

* * *

"Thanks for the CD, Aunt Santana!" Lily said, pulling Santana into a tight hug. "Can we listen to it on our way home?" She looked up at Quinn, who nodded.

"Thanks so much for coming you guys!" Brittany said, giving Quinn and Justin a kiss on the cheek.

"Anything for you, Brittany."

"Yeah, thanks guys, we hope you had a good time," Santana added, hugging Justin and then Quinn. "Want to go to lunch sometime this week, Quinn?"

"I'm pretty busy this week, Santana. Plus, doesn't your mom get into town soon?"

"I'm sure we can find sometime, right, Quinn?" Santana glared at her best friend.

"Sure," Quinn said quietly. "Thanks for having us."

* * *

"You were quiet tonight." Sarah said as they drove back to Rachel's.

"It's always weird seeing old friends," Rachel explained. Sarah nodded in agreement. "Plus, you only have the tip of the iceberg that was the gross number of sexual relations that group shared."

"Oh, please tell, Ms. Berry."

"I don't know if I can. It's kind of embarrassing."

"Oh you were in high school, it's always embarrassing. Just let it off your chest, Rachel." Rachel laughed.

"Okay, well, Quinn dated Finn. Finn dated me. I dated Puck. Puck dated Quinn. Quinn dated Sam. Sam dated Santana. Santana dated Brittany. Brittany dated Artie. Artie dated Tina. Tina dated Mike. Mike dated Brittany…"

"That's enough." Sarah said, laughing. "You guys were gross."

"Tell me about it," Rachel said. They drove the rest of the way back to Rachel's apartment in silence.

"I'm glad you brought me with you, though," Sarah said, squeezing Sarah's hand and smiling softly at her.

"I'm glad you could come," Rachel replied.

"Ugh, you know what this means?" Sarah asked. Rachel shook her head. "I'm only four hook up steps away from my boss." Rachel looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Me, you, Finn, Quinn, Sam, Santana. Gross."

"Actually, you're only two steps away. I just told you who _dated _whom. I eliminated the random sex acts. It's really you, me, Finn, Santana."

"Grosser." They both laughed and drove the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

"This was the best birthday ever," Brittany whispered to Santana, her arm around her waist. Santana stood on tiptoe and gave Brittany a kiss on the cheek.

"They're so adorable I kind of want to throw up on my life right now. In fact, if someone were showing me this when I was sixteen, I probably would have thrown up," Santana said, as Brittany took another picture of Nico and Olivia curled up asleep in the new dog bed, with Lola in between them.

"You love it." Brittany smiled down into Santana's eyes.

"I know," Santana said softly, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips. She took Brittany's pinky, shrugged and lie her head into her shoulder. Brittany sighed contentedly and rested her head on Santana's, as they watched their little family sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **I'm glad so many of you seem to be okay with long chapters, because here goes another one...it's a lot of Brittana fluff, sorry about that, but I'm setting up for some epicness to go down in the next couple chapters. And to my Faberry readers, please be patient with me! It will all unfold...thank you all again for your lovely reviews!

* * *

"Britts, you have to get up," Santana said, tying her robe and throwing Brittany's robe on the bed. Brittany just mumbled. "Brittany, baby, please wake up," Santana said, gently nudging Brittany's shoulder. "BRITTANY SUSAN PIERCE-LOPEZ. GET THE FUZZLE OUT OF BED."

"Ugh, San. I hate you. You're ruining my life." Brittany moaned, covering her head with a pillow.

"Do you hear it out there? It's mayhem!" Santana said as Brittany climbed out of bed and threw her robe over her naked body. Santana kissed her neck. "Let's go."

They walked into the hall. Lola was whining in the kitchen, blocked by a doggy gate. Nico and Olivia were screaming in their bedroom. Every time Lola barked, the toddlers screamed more.

"How do you want to do this?" Santana asked.

"I'll go get the kids, you go to the kitchen, turn on the coffee maker, and put a leash on Lola." Santana nodded and Brittany walked towards Nico and Olivia's room. Ten minutes later, she had both children changed and walked into the kitchen, climbing over the gate. The coffee machine was going and Santana was sitting at the kitchen table, furiously scrubbing her feet.

"I stepped in dog pee, Britt! She peed in the house."

"She's a puppy, San," Brittany said, softly. Santana glared. Brittany kissed her forehead. "Here you go," she said, handing Nico to Santana. "Take Lola out…"

"She already peed, Britt."

"I've told you a million times, this is how we train her _not _to pee in the house." Brittany said, trying her best to control her annoyance. Santana rolled her eyes, taking her son. She grabbed Lola by her leash and opened the doggy gate, slipping on her flip-flops before she walked out the door. She walked down to the curb, and closed her eyes, yawning. Her son stuck his hand in her mouth mid yawn, pulling on her lip.

"Mami," he said.

"Yup. That's me. Mami." She said, yawning again, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Good morning, Santana!" She shot her eyes open to find the hot young actress neighbor from across the street waving at her. Santana meekly waved back. "He's getting big!" Santana nodded. "Well have a nice day!" She got in her Mini Cooper convertible and drove off. Santana rolled her eyes and picked the newspaper off of the ground. She took inventory of herself. Hair: disheveled. Makeup: remnants of yesterday's smeared across her face. Clothing: robe. Shoes: flip-flops. Accessories: newspaper, toddler, bag of dog poop. What had Brittany done to her? She turned to walk back up the path to the house.

"What do we need to learn to say to mama?" She asked her son.

"No," Nico said.

"¿Qué es lo que tenemos que aprender a decir a mama?" Santana asked again.

"No," Nico said. Santana kissed her son's cheek.

"Bueno, mijo," she said, "we need someone around here who can say no to that woman." She led them back in the house. Brittany was cooking breakfast, so Santana let the puppy off of the leash and put Nico in his playpen with his sister. Santana poured coffee for both of them.

"Need help?" Brittany nodded.

"Almost done, can you just set the table?" Santana set the table and then helped Brittany bring the food over and then put the toddlers in their high chairs. They fed them bites of mashed egg yolks and avocado and mashed bananas in between bites of their own food.

"Bueno," Nico said as he swallowed his food. Santana grinned from ear to ear at her son. She pointed at the food.

"Los huevos y aguacate, mijo."

"Huevos…" Nico repeated. Brittany looked in awe at her wife.

"He's speaking Spanish, San," Brittany said. Santana grinned at Brittany.

"This is the first time he's said anything when he's not just repeating me!"

"Your mom's going to be so happy when she gets here!"

"We'll see…" Santana said. "You do know huevos is Spanish slang for balls…" Brittany laughed. "With our luck, the minute my mother arrives miraculously their growing vocabulary will be reduced to just boobs and huevos." Brittany threw her head back in laughter.

"Huevos," Olivia said. Brittany's laughter grew louder. Santana rolled her eyes.

"So…what's the plan today, babe?" Brittany asked.

"Busy. The plan is busy. I have meetings all morning, and Puck is being a giant bitch when it comes to this new role his agent lined up for him. I just can't fathom that he wants _more_ money than he already gets to go to work everyday and run in front of a green screen."

"He'll get it though, right? I mean, teenage girls want to date him, and teenage boys want to be him."

"I just don't understand it."

"Well, we both slept with him when we were teenagers."

"Don't remind me."

"And then I'm having lunch at Quinn's which should be terrible. I have a meeting in Burbank and then I'm picking my mom up at LAX."

"Want me to pick her up? That way you can spend some more time with Q?"

"That'd be great, if you have time."

"I'm just choreographing a fantasy dance number for some hospital show over in Glendale."

"What should we do with my mom?"

"I have everything planned out, don't worry, babe. Plus, I'm sure she really just wants to spend time with her grandbabies…" Santana shot Brittany a skeptical smile. "Trust me, babe…now go take a shower, you have a busy day!"

* * *

Santana didn't want to admit it, but there was something comforting about being at work these days. She obviously loved her wife and her children, anyone with half a brain could see that. At the end of the day, however, Santana was still Santana, and she wanted to yell. She wanted to argue, threaten, and curse. She wanted to wear impossibly high pumps (that she may or may not have paid over a grand for) and yell at short, old men until she got her way. Work was the perfect venue for this. The more people who left her office crying, the more successful she knew she was being at her job. She saw no reason her clients and coworkers needed to know that she spent her after hours time in sweatpants, watching Disney cartoons, and cuddling with her wife and children.

Santana threw briefcase on her desk after her meeting with Puck.

"Santana. I don't even know what to do with you!" Puck said, taking a seat at Santana's desk.

"I don't know what that means, Puckerman."

"It _means_ that I never expected to get that exorbitant amount of money for any role!"

"Well, that douchebag, fresh out of USC, executive who probably got his job through daddy didn't know what the fuck he was doing. He saw me and my weave and my heels and assumed he had it in the bag. He didn't know who he was dealing with."

"I think he pissed himself, Santana."

"Wouldn't be the first time a young executive urinated in his pants during a meeting with me. It probably won't be the last." Santana shrugged.

"You'd think they'd know by know not to send a rookie into a meeting with you."

"You'd think that, right?" Santana had secretly taken her shoes off under her desk. You'd think with the technology today they'd have found a way to make six inch heels remotely comfortable. Especially if you've paid $1200 for them.

"Let me buy you lunch. Please. You just made me so much money. Lunch is the least I can do."

"I get a percentage of that money, let me remind you, Puckerman. And I already have lunch plans with Q."

* * *

"You were really great out there." Brittany looked up to see the star of a new hit hospital-meets-national security show approaching her.

"Thanks," Brittany said, continuing to pack her bag.

"I mean, it must have been hard working with a bunch of non-dancers, like us." Brittany just shrugged. "So, do you dance professionally, or are you strictly a choreographer? You're such a great dancer."

Brittany stood up and began walking down the hall toward the parking lot.

"I dance once and awhile, but I don't want to tour anymore, so mostly choreography now." They had made it to Brittany's Prius. She beeped the doors open.

"So, listen, I know this is really forward, and I'm sure you get this all the time, but would you like to get coffee or a bite to eat sometime?" Brittany threw her bag in the backseat and then just lifted her left hand, pointing to her ring finger. He simply shrugged.

"Married?" She said, confused as to why this didn't seem to dissuade the man. When he still didn't move, she pulled out her phone. The background image was of her and Santana. "Also, gay?" She added. He shrugged again, but then scrunched up his forehead.

"Your wife looks familiar. Is she an actress or something?"

"No. She's a lawyer."

"What kind of law?" Brittany scrunched her forehead again. She didn't want to be embarrassed, yet again, because she couldn't remember what kind of law her wife practiced. It was hard though…it would be one thing if the words Santana used to describe what she did meant anything to her, but unfortunately, everything involving Santana's job sounded like Latin to Brittany. She was kind of sure that it _was _Latin. She tried to remember what Santana had helped memorized after the last time she was in this situation. The guy was still looking at her confused when the lightbulb went on in Brittany's head. She grinned.

"Entertainment law. She's a transactional attorney, specializing mostly in talent agreements, but her firm handles general intellectual property issues, as well," Brittany spit out. She had no idea what she had just said, but she was confident it was word-for-word what Santana told her. She didn't understand why people didn't accept her usual explanation: Santana makes sure that people don't steal each others' shit, and that actors make as much money as possible so she can buy me nice things. It sure made a hell of lot more sense than whatever she just said. The man was looking at her quizzically now. Maybe he _didn't_ understand either. He did seem kind of dumb…what kind of adult doesn't know that a ring on the left hand means married.

"What's your name again?" He asked, his confusion turning into mild worry.

"Brittany," she replied, again confused. First he asks her out, now he doesn't even remember her name? And people thought _she _could be dense… "Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Santana Pierce-Lopez. She's your _wife_?" Brittany nodded happily.

"You know her? I'll tell her we met!"

"NO. No, please, no need to mention it. No need to tell her we've ever spoken. It was very nice meeting you, Brittany. Have a lovely day." He lightly jogged away from her car. Brittany smirked as she got in. Her wife could scare men away from her even without being present. Now, _that_ is talent.

* * *

Quinn finished her third cup of coffee of the day. Really, what she wanted was a drink, but she was trying to be better about not using alcohol as a means to quell any remotely awkward social situation. Although, one glass of wine couldn't possibly hurt, right? And, it was almost after noon, which everyone knew was officially appropriate time to start drinking. Alone. In your house. No, she would have to wait for that drink. It was moments like these that she really wished she drank less on a regular basis so that she could justify drinking early in the day when a drink was in dire need. Luckily she fought the urge, because just then her doorbell rang. At least Santana wouldn't catch her day drinking and carrying on a lesbian affair all in one week.

"Hey, Q." Santana said as Quinn opened the door.

"Hey," Quinn said, letting her friend in.

"You want to just order in?"

"Sure."

"Where was that place we used to order pizza from in college? It was fucking delicious."

"Tomato Pie? Garage Pizza? Mulberry Street Pizza? Enzo's? Vito's?"  
"Enough, Q. We clearly ate too much pizza in college. Just pick a place."

"The usual?"

"Obviously."

Quinn sat down at the kitchen table after they placed the order (extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, peppers, onions, and mushrooms). She tried to ignore Santana's feet up on the table.

"So here's how this is going to work, Q. I cancelled my afternoon meetings, and Britt is going to pick my mom up from the airport, so I don't have to be home until six, that's around when the girls' get home too, right?" Quinn nodded. "I'm not going to yell at you, but I expect you to be honest with me."

"Don't pull some weird lawyer/therapist shit with me, Santana."

"I'm not. You didn't let me finish. I'm pulling some best friend from college shit. And what would we do when one of us was having a rough time in college?" Quinn raised her eyebrow. "It's not a rhetorical question, Q. What would we do?"

"Get wasted, eat foods with a high caloric count, eventually talk and then punch each other?"

"Exactly."

"I don't know if that's the most productive way to spend a midweek afternoon."

"It's not. But maybe it will get you to actually start talking to me. So pop open a bottle of wine and let's get this show on the road."

* * *

An hour later Quinn finished her third piece of pizza, and her third glass of wine. It was 12:30 in the afternoon.

"I fucking hate you, Santana."

"Fuck you, bitch."

"Fuck you." Quinn didn't have a retort to the second "fuck you" so they just sat in silence. "What the fuck is going on with you, Q?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, don't play that bullshit card with me. You know exactly what I mean."

"All I know is that you're a bitch and you're testing me Santana Pierce-Lopez. I'm too old for his bullshit."

"Well, Quinn Fabray-Scott, we have two hours before we have to stop drinking to sober up, so you best start talking. Bitch."

"Don't make me hit you."

"I'd like to see you try."

* * *

"You know, sometimes you question where Lily gets her violent tendencies from."

"Sorry, San," Quinn said sheepishly, readjusting the frozen steak she had over Santana's eye.

"It's cool, but now you definitely have to talk to me."

"I just don't know what you want to talk about it."

"Well, why don't you start by telling me the truth?"

"I think you heard the truth while you were eavesdropping."

"Okay, but I want to hear the truth. From the horse's mouth."

"I'm sleeping with Rachel, okay, Santana! I'm sleeping with her and it's casual and I like it and it sure beats my absent husband." Santana didn't know what to do with the bluntness of her friend, so they sat in silence.

"Do you have any idea of the implications of your actions, Quinn?" Santana finally said.

"Of course I do!"

"No, I really don't think you do."

"Santana, don't talk to me like I'm a child. I am fully aware of what I am doing."

"If you don't want to be treated like a child, then don't act like one! I hate to break it to you, Quinn, but you're not acting a day older than when you were a scared teenager telling Finn that he got you pregnant via hot tub."

"It's low to bring that up, and you know it, Santana."

"I'm just telling the truth, which is something you apparently are incapable of doing."

"Well, then why don't you enlighten me as to what exactly the _truth_ is, since I'm apparently incapable of doing that in my own life."

"The truth, Quinn? The truth is that you're acting like a child. This in not some three month relationship where you can make out with Finn in the auditorium, and the only repercussions were Sam hurting for a few weeks. Moving beyond the emotional damage you are most likely doing to Rachel and yourself right now, and the fact that we're talking about a 12 year relationship here, let's talk about the logistical fall out from your so-called casual affair. What happens if you get caught, Quinn, especially by an outsider? Your husband is a famous football player and your _mistress_ is an up and coming actress. I work in the industry. I know how these things work. Imagine the magazines…_Rachel Berry: Lesbian Homewrecker, _or _Justin Scott Not Man Enough For His Wife Anymore…_your kids will see this, their classmates will see this, your friends will see this. Rachel will have to fight against the reputation of being a lesbian actress and being a homewrecker. It doesn't matter that Rachel isn't gay, having it come out like this means that she won't get the luxury of defining her sexuality on her own terms. She will lose any male fanbase, and she will lose that precious straight married female fanbase. Your children will have to go through a messy and public divorce, and at the end of the day, you still won't know what you want anymore than you do right now." Quinn didn't say anything, just stared at Santana, obviously fighting back the tears welling in her eyes. Santana felt bad. Maybe she had pushed too far this time.

"I don't know what to do." Quinn finally croaked out.

"I know you don't, I know," Santana said, pulling her friend tightly to her as she broke down. "The thing is, Q, you're not going to figure it out simply by not thinking about it. I know we've never really talked about this…by the time we actually became close, I was out and gay and there was no real reason to rehash the past…but as much as I hated…still kind of hate…Artie, he was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, confused.

"Well, had Brittany and I just continued as we were going, sleeping together, not talking about our feelings, and not dating anyone else, I would have been happy and never thought about who I was. But Artie came along. And Artie took Brittany away from me. It wasn't until I didn't have Brittany anymore that I realized how much I needed her. Not having her made me realize that I didn't like being with boys. It forced me to think about who I was and who I wanted, because I couldn't fall back on a comfortable situation. Whether you're gay, or bi, or just have a weird thing for Berry, you're never going to be able to have all that you want, and all that you deserve, unless you figure out who _you_ are. I would have continued to sleep with Brittany, but been so afraid of being gay that we could never have come out, never have gotten married, never have had our two wonderful children."

"When did you get to be so wise, Santana?"

"I've always been this wise. Usually I'm just too much of a bitch for anyone to notice."

"Thank you, Santana."

"No worries." Quinn pulled Santana into a tight hug. "Can I just ask one question though, Q?"

"Of course."

"Berry? Really?" Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Don't you have to be getting home?"

* * *

"Mami!" Santana yelled when she saw her mother sitting in the living room playing with her children.

"Mija! It's so good to see you!" Her mother exclaimed, giving Santana a kiss on the cheek. "My grandbabies have grown so much!" Santana nodded, giving each of her children a kiss on their cheeks.

"What do you want to do tonight, mami?" Santana asked.

"I'm thinking I'm going to babysit tonight." Santana raised her eyebrow at her mother.

"Babysit? What are you talking about?" She looked at her mother questioningly as Brittany entered the room in a gorgeous blue dress, heels, and her hair falling in loose curls around her face.

"I'm taking you out," Brittany said, simply. Santana couldn't find her words. "Go get changed." A few seconds passed, and Santana finally swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to form words.

"My mother is in town," was all she could say.

"Exactly," Maria said, smirking at her daughter's reaction to Brittany's outfit, "which is why it's the perfect time for her to take you out."

"But I want to spend time with you, mami."

"Mija, I've spent thirty years with your bad attitude. I want to spend some time with my adorable grandchildren," Maria said, playfully. "Besides, I am here for at least a week, we have plenty of time to spend together. Go get changed and have a nice night with your wife."

"Thanks, mami," Santana said, still a little confused. She walked down her hall to her room started to take of her work clothes as she looked at the dresses in her closet. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Did her mother just say she was going to be in town for _more_ than a week? She was distracted when Brittany walked in.

"Wait, San, sit down," Brittany said, kneeling in front of her wife, her hands on both of her knees. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What's wrong, Britt, is everything okay?" Santana asked, gently touching Brittany's cheek. Brittany leaned her head into Santana's caress and then reached both of her hands up to cup Santana's face.

"Everything is perfect. I don't tell you that enough." Brittany choked a little, fighting back her tears. "I've never been the most vocal of people…you know, I have always struggled with my words, to make them make sense to anyone outside of my head."

"I always understand you, B."

"I know. But that doesn't make it okay. I don't thank you enough, I don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate all you do for me. Lately, we get so bogged down in the everyday annoyances of being adults, and I don't appreciate what you do for me as much as I should."

"Yes you do, Britt. And you know, I do what I do because I love you."

"I know. But _you_ should know that you don't go unnoticed. That I may not have the vocabulary to express how much it means when you single-handedly renovated the garage into a dance studio. Or to thank you for financially supporting this family for years. That you make sure we go to the zoo at least once a month, that you help with every meal, that you make sure you tell me you love me every time you leave the house, that you got me a puppy because you know I've wanted one since I was like, six. You take me seriously, when no one else ever has. You let me decorate our house with animals, and you search for a silly bracelet I gave you when we were eleven years old for an entire day. I _notice_ all of these things, San, even if I don't always have the words to express it. I love you more each and every day for all of these things. Even when our lives get busy, when our children are driving us up the wall and our bosses are treating us like pieces of dirt, you always make sure that I know that I am special and that I am loved." Santana couldn't keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Brittany was the only one who had ever been able to make her cry like this. "I never forget that, San. I've loved you since the day I first set eyes on you. The fact that you treat me so well, that you put me first, that you make sure that everything is always perfect for me is just icing on the cake. Because I love you. I wish I could be to you what you are to me. You could do none of those things and I will still love you as much as I did the first day I set eyes on you. And while, obviously, I love that you are undoubtedly whipped by me, I don't want you to forget that I am whipped by you too. I may not be able to show it the way you are, but I love you more than I knew was possible. You are my _everything_, Santana. I would go to the ends of the world to make you happy, and I don't show it, at least not the way you show me."

"You do, Brittany, you do." Brittany shook her head.

"I don't. Santana, I love you. I love you more than I knew was possible. I will never stop loving you. Even if you decide to start saying no to me every once and awhile."

"Impossible," Santana said, pulling her wife in for a kiss.

* * *

Quinn had gone into lunch with Santana expecting to ignore everything her friend said to her. Soon after Santana had left, the carpool dropped her children off and they ran around the house yelling and complaining about their days and fighting with each other. She got them calmed down and settled on their homework and began to cook dinner. Things were calm—things were routine. Quinn knew part of this was because she was mildly neurotic, but also part of it was because it was what children needed. She liked watching them like this. Yes, of course, every once in awhile she'd catch Lily pulling Hannah's hair, or Hannah sneakily logging on to instant message one of her friends, but their lives were normal, organized. Santana was right. Quinn didn't want to turn everyone's lives upside down for something she wasn't even sure she wanted. She picked up her phone and cradled it between her chin and her shoulder once all the food was heating on the stove.

"Hey, Rach."

"Quinn. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was wondering if you could come over tonight? That is if you're not hanging out with Sarah."

"I told you, Quinn, I'm not doing this anymore."

"I just want to talk."

"If I had a dollar for every time you said that…"

"You'd have three dollars."

"Fine. But really, just talking okay? Text me when you put the kids to bed and I'll come over."

* * *

"I can't believe you remembered this place, Britt."

"How could I forget?"

"I don't know…because I had? Because it's reminiscent of such a younger time, a poorer time, just, a different time, you know?"

"But you always loved it."

"Obviously. I can't believe Marty and Elayne are still playing here."

"I know. It's like they've actually found that immortality fountain or something. Plus, San, tonight is the night they take requests from singers. So you best be figuring out which standard you have up your sleeve…" Santana smirked as the waitress arrived and they ordered their food.

"You know I always do, B."

* * *

Quinn finished reading "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" for what may as well been the 1000th time in her adult life. She tucked Harper in and walked down the hall, texting Rachel as she walked. Her first inclination was to change into something more appealing, but she realized they really had to talk this time around. She peeked her head in her older daughters' bedrooms, happy to find both sound asleep. She walked downstairs. It was nine, and she poured herself a glass of wine.

* * *

Brittany couldn't help but smile as Elayne began playing a familiar opening on the piano and the trumpet chimed in. Marty stood at the microphone.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez," he said into the microphone, his voice as smooth as those on the radio. Santana approached the microphone.

"_Living for you,_" Santana began, smiling at Brittany as she grasped the microphone. "_Is easy to live, when you're in love. And I'm so in love. There is nothing in life but you._" Santana smiled and swayed against the microphone. Someone passed a whiskey and water in her direction, which she happily accepted. It had been a long time since she had really sung in public. "_I never regret the years that I'm giving. They're easy to give when you're in love. I'm happy to do, whatever I do for you._" Santana fumbled with the mic stand, pulling the microphone out and then gesturing to Brittany, who rose from their table and they began to softly dance against each other.

"_For you, maybe I'm a fool, but it's fun._

_People say you rule me with one wave of your hand,_

_Darling, it's grand, they just don't understand._" An instrumental interlude began and they swayed slowly against each other.

"_Living for you, is easy living._

_It's easy to live when you're in love,_

_And I'm so in love,_

_There's nothing in life but you._" Santana finished the song to loud applause. She buried her head in Brittany's neck, slightly embarrassed.

"You still have it, baby," Brittany said, leading a smiling Santana back to her seat.

* * *

Quinn finished her second glass of wine when she heard the front door swing open. _Finally_, she thought to herself, straightening out her dress where she sat at the kitchen counter. She was going to get this over with.

"Surprise!" Justin said as he walked into the kitchen. Quinn's eyes went wide. "I know I've been saying that I would come home more often for years now, and I finally decided it was better to actually walk the walk for once, you know?"

"Oh my god, Justin, I…I…" her husband cut her off with a passionate kiss. More passionate than a kiss they'd shared for years.

"I finally managed to surprise Quinn Fabray," Justin said, satisfied. "You look beautiful, baby. I'm going to drop my stuff upstairs, want to meet me up there?" Quinn simply nodded as Justin turned to leave. Once she was satisfied he was safely upstairs, she pulled out her phone.

* * *

Rachel was sitting in her car in front of Quinn's house trying to decide what to do when her phone buzzed in her lap.

_**Quinn Fabray-Scott:**_

_Justin came home. I'm sorry,_

_we have to postpone._

Rachel didn't know whether to respond or not. She looked over at Quinn's house. Not Quinn's house, she reminded herself. Quinn and _Justin's _house. She'd been sitting there since before Justin's car dropped him off at the airport, since before he walked into his home and before she saw Quinn embrace him in a tight hug. She didn't know why she was sitting there anymore. She turned her key in the ignition and started her car, pulling away without sending Quinn a reply text.

* * *

"Baby, this isn't the way home," Santana said as she watched her wife turn the wrong way down Hollywood Blvd. She was used to Brittany's lack of direction and didn't think twice about the mistake.

"Who said we were going home?" Brittany asked.

"It's late, babe, where else would we go?" Brittany didn't reply as they drove down Hollywood Blvd. "Brittany?"

"You worry too much, Santana." Brittany said as they drove.

* * *

"Britt, as much as I love the Tropicana, I really think we should be heading home," Santana said as they dropped their car at the valet at the Roosevelt Hotel.

"We're not going to the Tropicana."

"Well, then what are we doing here?" Brittany led her through the hotel to the concierge.

"We're here to check in," Brittany said, pulling her wallet out of her purse. Santana's eyes widened.

"Your name, ma'am?"

"Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

"Yes, that's going to be the Marilyn Suite," Brittany nodded, grinning. She glanced over at her wife who looked like a deer in headlights.

Santana still didn't speak as they got up to their room and Brittany tipped the porter. They entered the suite. There was champagne in an ice bucket on the table and strawberries in a bowl on the table. The suite had a view of the city.

"Britt…" Santana finally began.

"I thought you forgot how to speak." Brittany replied.

"I just…I just can't believe…"

"You deserve everything, too, Santana." Santana looked at her wife, and pulled her into a deep kiss.

* * *

Maria took her sleepy grandchildren to their bedroom after giving them a bath and slipping them into their soft, cloth diapers.

"Buenas noches, Nico," Maria said, petting the soft down on her grandson's head. "Buenas noches, Livi." Nico yawned and Olivia balled up her fists.

"Bueno," Nico said. Maria smiled. So, Santana was teaching them Spanish after all.

"Bueno," Olivia said.

"Huevos," Nico said. "Buenos los huevos," he continued. Olivia giggled. Okay, Maria thought, like her daughter and daughter-in-law, they must really like breakfast.

"Boobs," Olivia said as she shut her eyes.

"Buenos boobs." Nico said. Maria rolled her eyes, wondering why she thought children raised by her daughter and Brittany would fall asleep saying anything else. Her mind briefly flitted to all of her traumatizing Master Vampirate Santana images, but she managed to get them out of her head as she slipped into bed and fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: **The song Santana sings is _Easy Living_. There are a lot of versions, but I was listening to the Billie Holiday version when I wrote this :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for your reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

* * *

"This was perfect," Santana said, collapsing on top of Brittany in the silk sheets at the Roosevelt hotel. Brittany simply nodded.

"I don't want to go back to the real world," she replied, playfully pecking Santana on the lips.

"We could just live in this hotel forever…" Santana began, "drinking champagne, eating strawberries, ordering room service, and _never_ wearing clothes…" Santana trailed off as she nuzzled on Brittany's neck.

"I'll miss Nico and Olivia, though," Brittany began.

"My mother will take care of them," Santana said, trailing a line of kisses across Brittany's collarbone. "She's a great parent. Look at me." Santana began leaving light kisses along Brittany's sternum.

"And I'll miss Lola."

"We'll give her to Quinn's kids," Santana said, as her lips reached her wife's belly button. "Quinn will love that."

"I kind of miss them already," Brittany said. Santana popped her head up and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Really, Britt?" Brittany nodded. "Besides, I told your mom we'd be back by 10am." Santana groaned. Brittany crawled behind her and put her arms around her waist.

"I'm going to miss that groan though, once we get back to the real world," Brittany said, placing her lips to Santana's neck. "I forgot how loud you could be…"

"It's our kids or the groan," Santana said, playfully. Brittany giggled.

"You can't make me choose, Santana," Brittany whined into Santana's ear. "I love them both so much…"

"Well then I guess me and my groan are going to just stay here at the Roosevelt," Santana smirked. "Besides, I'm pretty sure there will be plenty of rich, famous, clientele who would love to make me groan…"

"I have an idea! For our anniversary, why don't you soundproof our room?" Brittany asked, placing a wet kiss on Santana's cheek. "Then we can still have the kids, and no one will be able to hear your groan other than me!"

"I guess the six year anniversary _is_ steel…I'll see what I can do," Santana replied. Brittany squealed and pulled Santana back down into the bed. They still had a little bit of time before they had to get back.

* * *

Quinn snuggled further into her husband's collarbone, tracing her hand up and down his strong chest. He kissed the top of her head.

"This is nice," Quinn said. Justin nodded. "It's been a long time, J." He nodded again.

"I missed this," he kissed the top of her head again. "I missed us, Quinn." He pulled her closer to him. Quinn fought through the tears starting to well in her eyes. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many confessions after so many years of being unhappy. Instead she just allowed him to hold her, content in this rare content moment in their eight-year marriage.

"I missed us too," Quinn said simply. "Last night was amazing, J."

"I know," he said. "Thanks so much, for being my wife. I know I haven't been all that I could be, lately, in terms of a husband, but today is my commitment to change. I love you, Quinn Fabray," Justin said, leaning down to pull Quinn into a tight kiss.

"I love you too, Justin Scott." Quinn said as she climbed on top of her husband and pulled him into a deeper kiss.

* * *

"I love Saturdays," Sarah said, rolling over to face Rachel. "I especially love Saturdays when you're not working and when I get surprise late Friday night visits from you." Sarah smiled at Rachel. Rachel quickly kissed her on the lips.

"You know what my favorite thing to do on Saturday mornings is…" Rachel said as they pulled away from the kiss. Sarah smirked and Rachel rolled them over so that she was straddling Sarah, one leg on each side.

"I'm guessing I'm about to find out," Sarah said, before Rachel pulled her into another passionate kiss.

* * *

After just one night, Maria was concerned for how the girls were managing all of this on their own. Kids, jobs, pets…it just seemed like a lot for the girls to handle.

"Women, not girls anymore," she reminded herself out loud as she picked up Nico under one arm and then Olivia under the other. It still felt like yesterday though, that Santana was unable to keep a goldfish alive and Brittany was unable to successfully microwave a bag of popcorn. Maria pulled Lola on her leash and headed for the door. It was just so hard to believe how quickly the girls had grown up and became responsible young women. Maria stopped before opening the door.

"You've got to be kidding me," Maria said out loud to herself again. She swung it open and Brittany and Santana broke apart quickly. Brittany's faced blushed a bright red.

"I take it your date went well?" Maria asked. Santana just nodded, sleepily. "And here I was thinking you were all grown up…"

"I am grown up, mami," Santana said, taking Olivia from her mother. "I am totally allowed to make out with my _wife_ in front of my nearly paid off house." Her mother rolled her eyes as Brittany took Nico and cooed into his head. "And yes, mami, if you must know, we had a wonderful time," Santana said, unable to conceal the sultriness in her voice.

"I can tell," Maria said as she walked past the women to take Lola out, gesturing to the dark bruises on Brittany's neck. "You two will always be sixteen to me," Maria sing-songed out the door. Brittany turned ever redder. "They think after all these years that I don't know them…" Maria continued mumbling until she got out of earshot.

* * *

Quinn groaned as she was stirred from her sleep. Her head was on her husband's chest and her face was slightly sticking to the sweat that had accumulated between the two of them.

"Mom!" Came a voice at the door. "Mom! Your door is locked! We're hungry!" Justin laughed quietly and stretched. They both got up; Quinn tightened a robe around her body and Justin threw on a pair of pajama pants. That was one nice thing about being married to a football player. While she saw other married men their age grow flabbier, her husband, if his six pack were any indication, was in as great a shape as when he was nineteen.

"DADDY!" Lily screamed as Justin opened up the door and swung her around. "HARPER! HANNAH! Daddy's home!" Harper and Hannah ran done the hall and Justin took turns picking up the other two blonds. Quinn watched the scene unfold in her

"Boy, if I got this reception every morning, I'd be one happy woman," Quinn laughed.

"We love you too, mommy! It's just we get to see you everyday," Harper said, hugging onto Quinn's legs and smiling up at her with her missing two front teeth. Quinn ruffled her youngest daughter's hair and picked her up.

"Thanks, Harp. What do you say we go get some breakfast?" Harper nodded happily and they headed downstairs.

* * *

"Schedule B Players must receive an additional overtime payment of four hours at straight time rate for each overnight location Saturday. Player accepts such engagement upon the terms herein specified," Santana read aloud in a baby voice to Nico, who was sitting on her lap.

"What are you reading to your son?" Maria asked Santana from the kitchen counter.

"A contract. Have to get them started early in this city," Santana said as Maria rolled her eyes. Maria returned her attention back to Brittany and the brunch they were preparing.

"Justin's in town," Brittany said, suddenly. Santana raised her eyebrow. "He surprised Quinn. Called me a couple nights ago to make sure we didn't have something planned this weekend."

"That's nice!" Maria said. "We should have them over for dinner! I haven't seen everyone since last Christmas." There was silence in the room. "What?" Maria said. "Is there something going on with Justin and Quinn?"

"They are just having some…problems."

"I think it'd be nice, Santana," Brittany said. "like old times. Maybe it would be good for them."

"I think it'd be awkward, Brittany."

"Well, it's settled then," Maria said, directing her attention to Olivia, whom she was holding, "the Fabray-Scott's are coming to dinner!" Olivia giggled.

"We can invite Mercedes and James too! You know they're trying to get pregnant, Maria?"  
"Oh, that's great. Mercedes will make a great mom. She's such a lovely young woman." Brittany nodded and handed Maria a handful of chopped tomatoes.

"I know. She's so good with the twins, and she's always been great with Quinn's kids."

"I certainly would have expected her to have kids before that one," Maria said, nodding her head over to Santana. Brittany and Maria both broke down in laughter. Santana, meanwhile, had been sitting at the table staring at her wife and mother, dumbfounded.

"Um. Excuse me? Did everyone forget that I'm part of this family as well?" Both women turned to look at Santana.

"What are you talking about, honey?" Brittany asked, looking up from the chorizo she was expertly chopping.

"_I _don't want to have a dinner party tonight. How is it settled that we're having one?"

"Oh, mija," her mother said, "I just wanted to save us the time of the argument. We all know you would have caved." Brittany and Maria laughed again.

"Aye dios mio," Santana said, exasperated. "Let's go outside," she said to her son. He nodded and patted her face as she rose with him in one arm and the contract in the other. "At least you listen to me, mijo."

* * *

Quinn was cutting Harper's waffle into bite size pieces on her Wizard of Oz plate while Lily regaled Justin with every story from school that he had missed out on in the last few weeks when the phone rang inside the house.

"I'll get it," Quinn said jumping up and running into the house to grab the phone. It was pretty rare that someone called the landline anymore so she figured it was important. The caller ID read "Pierce-Lopez."

"Hey, Brittany!" Quinn said cheerily as she answered the phone.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Santana would never use this line."

"Well, I was calling for the whole family, not just for you, so I thought it was appropriate. What's wrong with you?" Brittany asked.

"Nothings wrong!" Quinn said, surprised and a little confused.

"You had good sex last night," Brittany said, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"Oh, you're a terrible liar, Quinn, and everyone has a post-sex voice."

"Can you just tell me why you're calling, Brittany?" Quinn asked as her face flushed.

"Maria is in town and we thought we'd have a small dinner party tonight, if you're free."

"Santana's okay with that? Does she know Justin is in town?"

"Santana is more than happy to have you. Mercedes and James are coming too!"

"Thanks, Brittany," Quinn said cautiously. "Are you sure it's okay with Santana?"

"Definitely. See you at seven, Q." Brittany hung up the phone.

Quinn shut her phone and walked back outside to where her family were busy eating their own breakfast.

"Who was that, babe?" Justin asked.

"Brittany. Inviting us over for dinner. Maria is in town."

"Did you tell her we'd go?"

"Yes, but we can definitely cancel, if you want. There's no reason we _have _to go. In fact, on second thought, maybe we should just spend this time with each other."

"No, no, that's not why I was asking!" Justin quickly interjected. "I just wanted to make sure you told them we would go. I'd like to see them. I'd also like to yell at Santana."

"Why?" Quinn raised her eyebrows at her husband.

"You don't even notice it anymore, do you?"

"Notice what?"

"My point exactly. You do realize that _Black Magic Woman _has been playing on repeat since we came downstairs."

"Oh, that's it?" Quinn said, smirking at her husband. "It's been on repeat for weeks. You'll get used to it."

* * *

Santana pinched the bridge of her nose between her index finger and her thumb as her mother and Brittany discussed what was needed for dinner in the produce aisle at Gelson's. Everything had to be such a production these days. There was just no way to grocery shop with toddlers and not have it turn into an overly complicated endeavor. She decided to leave Maria and Brittany to their discussion and find the magazine aisle. She was about to turn when she saw Rachel and Sarah discussing frozen veggie burgers. She internally groaned and pulled down her fedora, hoping to get back to the produce aisle before they noticed her.

"Santana!" Rachel yelled.

"Rachel, Sarah!" Santana put on her best Cheerios grin and pushed the stroller down the aisle.

"How's your Saturday going, Santana?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, just wonderful, Berry. I love grocery shopping."

"Sarah and I were going to barbeque since it's such a lovely day outside! Would you like to join us? I'm sure Sarah would be happy to prepare you some of those cow and solidified cow's milk burgers you love so much."

"As much as the prospect of spending a beautiful Saturday listening to you talk about the resurgence of the movie musical excites me, Berry, my mother is in town and we have plans."

"That's a shame, Santana, Sarah here is a really great cook!"

"There you are, Santana, are you hiding from us?" Maria said, approaching Santana with Brittany, the cart, and Olivia.

"Not at all, mom…do you remember Rachel Berry? She was in glee club with us in high school, and…"

"And at your graduation, and wedding, and we've met plenty of times, Santana. It's nice to see you again, Rachel," she said, pulling Rachel in for a hug.

"You too, Maria."

"And this is Rachel's girlfriend and my coworker, Sarah," Santana said. Maria and Sarah shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Pierce."

"Mrs. Lopez."

"Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Lopez."

"You can call me Maria."

"Really?" Santana said, looking at Sarah confused. "You hadn't figured out yet which one of us was the Pierce and which one was the Lopez?"

"I'm colorblind."

"You're also incredibly annoying. You two deserve each other."

"Santana. Be nice. We're having a small dinner party tonight, would you ladies like to join us? It will just be us, Mercedes and James, and Justin and Quinn."

"While I'd love to join you all," Rachel said, breaking her stoic character for barely a second before concealing the hurt in her eyes, "I think Sarah and I are going to stay in today."

"Okay, well hopefully I will see you again before I go back to Lima."

"I'm sure we will."

* * *

"Hola chiquitas!" Maria exclaimed as Hannah, Harper, and Lily ran into the house. She pulled them all in for a bear hug.

"Hola, abuela!" The girls said.

"You are all getting so big, I can't believe it. You are each the spitting image of your mother at your ages, and all just as beautiful." Lily broke away from Maria and ran to Santana grabbing her tightly around her leg.

"Hey, Aunt S!" Lily said.

"Hey, you," Santana said, ruffling Lily's hair.

"Guess what? Daddy's going to buy me a guitar so that I can learn to play just like Carlos Santana!"

"You know I play the guitar? I can give you lessons." Santana replied. Lily squealed at this notion causing all of the adults in the room to quickly put their hands over their ears.

"Why don't you girls go say hi to Aunt Cedes and Uncle James, they're just in the living room," Santana said, nudging the girls down the hallway.

"Quinnie, come give me a hug," Maria said, pulling Quinn into a tight embrace. "And Justin, I trust you're taking care of my Quinn?"

"You know it Mrs. L. I don't think Santana would have it any other way." Justin chuckled.

"That's my girl," Maria said, proudly, wrapping her arm around Santana's shoulder.

* * *

"What wrong, Rach?" Sarah asked as they cleaned up Rachel's small kitchen.

"Nothing," Rachel said. "Do you want to take a hike up toward the Hollywood sign?"

"Sure," Sarah replied, drying her hands on a dishtowel and tucking it into the handle of the oven door.

It was a beautiful night; the temperature outside felt identical to an ideal temperature inside the house with a light breeze. Rachel lightly held Sarah's hand as they walked up into the Hollywood hills.

"What's going on with you, Rach," Sarah finally asked after about ten minutes of walking in silence.

"I guess, I think we should talk, about what we're going to do now that the movie is over." Rachel said in a small voice.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, her voice impossibly quiet.

"Well, I guess it's why I wanted to take this walk to the Hollywood sign. Well, not _to _the Hollywood sign, but you know, closer to it, because I don't know what I'm going to do when the movie is over."

"I still don't think I understand what you mean, Rachel."

"Well, I don't know if I'm going to stay. Stay here, I mean. Stay in Los Angeles, I mean."

"Oh." Sarah dropped Rachel's hand and instead focused on the Hollywood sign that was growing larger as they walked. You could barely make it out at night against it's dark backdrop. "It would have been nice if you had told me that when we started this…whatever this is…"

"I didn't know then, Sarah. I didn't know what the long-term plan was. I still don't. But as of Friday, I am officially unemployed and paying a mortgage on an apartment in New York, a lease on a car that I will only need if I stay in this city and rent on an apartment in Los Angeles. Even if I were to keep the apartment in New York, I can't just have the setup I do now where a friend checks on it a few times a week. I need to figure out what I want to do."

"I want to be with you," Sarah said, stopping in her tracks. "I really like you, Rachel, and I think that our relationship could be really special." She tucked a hair behind Rachel's ear. "I want you to stay, Rachel."

"I don't know if I can."

"Why?" Sarah asked, hoping Rachel hadn't noticed the crack in her voice.

"Because it's irresponsible. Because I'm thirty and by this point I know that I can't make financial or career decisions because I like someone." Rachel was lying. She knew full well she was lying, but she was an actor, and she wasn't going to tell this perfectly, nice, pretty, smart woman that she couldn't make those kinds of decisions for _her._

"Rachel, I like you, but it's up to you to figure this out, if that's how you feel about it." Sarah said, walking away from Rachel and back down the hill. "But you should know, Rach, I like you enough that I will fight for you, even if you're in New York." Rachel sat down on the side of the road as Sarah disappeared down the road. She couldn't stop the tears rolling out of both of her eyes.

* * *

Dinner was finished, and they decided to just stay outside and enjoy the wine and each others' company instead of getting a jump on the dishes. The twins had been put to bed about an hour earlier, and Harper and Hannah had fallen asleep in the guest room about twenty minutes into Cinderella. Quinn absentmindedly swirled the wine around her glass as Maria spoke to her, leaning against the wall.

"I guess, Quinn, there is no clear solution to the issue."

"Really?" Quinn asked, visibly frustrated. "How did you deal with her all these years?'

"A lot of patience. A lot of wine. A pre-written speech to any school official I ever may have had to come in contact with and a list of creative punishments longer than my arm." Both women laughed. "Seriously though, Quinn. The important thing to remember is children act out because they don't know how to express their feelings."

"You and Santana and feelings." Quinn scoffed.

"I'm not going to pretend that I understand that statement…" Maria said, raising an eyebrow, "and just let you know that you have to find a way to get Lily to talk about whatever has her on edge. Lily's angry, and she'll probably become less of a troublemaker if you can find out why."

"I think she's a troublemaker because I let your daughter hang out too much with mine." Quinn said through a small smile. "I know you're right, Maria. I just am not much of a _feelings_ person myself, you know?"

"I know, Quinn. But I think you have to find a way to deal with it, for Lily's sake." Quinn nodded. "You know what happened when we allowed Santana's feelings to get the better of her…" Quinn nodded, a slightly terrified look crossing her eyes. "We really should have just sat her down and told her, 'we all know you're a big lesbian for Brittany, please stop terrorizing the neighbors.'"

"And your classmates."

"And random strangers." Quinn began laughing so hard she had to hold on to Maria's shoulder to stand up.

* * *

"So have you thought about any baby names yet?"

"Brittany, we're not even pregnant yet. We don't want to get ahead of ourselves." Mercedes said, grinning at her husband.

"If it's a girl, you should name her after you, Cedes!"

"What, like name her Mercedes the II, or Mercedes Junior? Cause, I don't think I'm down with that."

"No, you could name her after a car. Like Lexus, or Kia. I always thought Escalade would make a good name…" Mercedes looked at Brittany skeptically. Brittany had come a long way, but sometimes she _still_ could be so strange.

* * *

Lily was sleeping curled up in Santana's lap with her head on Santana's shoulder.

"She adores you," Justin said to Santana. Santana simply shrugged.

"I'm pretty fucking awesome." Lily giggled sleepily. "Of course you choose this moment to wake up." Santana said to Lily. Lily shrugged. "What do you say we get you to the guest room with your sisters, sleepyhead."

"I'm not sleepy," Lily yawned.

"I know you're not, Bug," Santana smirked, picking up the little girl and taking her into the guest room with her already sleeping sisters.

"Seriously," Justin said, turning to face the rest of the group, "Lily really adores Santana."

"I think the feeling is mutual," Brittany said, taking a sip of her white wine. "I think Santana sees a mini-her in Lily."

"That's what makes me nervous," Quinn said. "Santana's personality combined with my jaw-dropping good looks…she's going to be like the spawn of Satan."

"You know that's what I called Santana in high school?" Mercedes said, laughing.

"Clearly, appropriate," Maria laughed.

"Don't be mean," Brittany chastised the group who were all laughing boisterously by now. "One day, I may actually have to raise the spawn of Satan…I mean Santana." At that, the entire group broke down in laughter.

"So," Santana began, reentering the porch, "when do I get to start giving Lily her guitar lessons?" The laughter on the patio grew louder. Santana scrunched up her forehead. "What did I miss?"

* * *

Quinn and Justin didn't get home and the girls in bed until a little after 12:30 that night. Quinn didn't regret anything. She'd had more fun tonight than she had in far too long. Especially more fun than she'd had with Justin for longer than she wished to remember.

"That was great," Justin said, crawling under the covers in just his boxers.

"I know," Quinn said from the bathroom, rinsing out her toothbrush. She placed it into the cup, and then slid in bed behind her husband.

"I've had a really great time with this weekend," Justin said, rolling over so he could look into his wife's eyes. He put his hand up to her cheek. "I've been missing out on so much. You have a whole life here with the girls and Santana and her family and school that I know nothing about. I just keep thinking, what am I going to do when I retire in ten years and come home to a bunch of teenage girls who don't know me, or worse, hate me, and a wife who I don't know anything about anymore?"

"I can't answer that for you, Justin."

"I know. And my job makes it so that I can't be home all the time. I know I sound like a broken record here, Quinn, but I'm going to do better. I _have_ to do better." Quinn cut him off with a sweet gentle kiss. They kissed softly until they fell asleep.

* * *

"Quinn, wake up," Justin said, nudging her.

"What time is it?"

"1:30. Your phone keeps ringing." Quinn fumbled in the dark for her phone. 4 missed calls and 3 text messages. All from Rachel.

_**Rachel Berry:**_

_Answer your phone. Important._

_**Rachel Berry:**_

_I'm coming over._

_**Rachel Berry:**_

_I'm here. Come outside._

The last text was from five minutes ago.

"Shit. Shit shit shit."

"What's wrong?" Justin asked.

"San emergency. I'll be right back." Quinn said, gently kissing Justin on the cheek.

Quinn tightened her robe while she crossed the street to where Rachel leaned against her car.

"_WHAT _do you think you are doing, Rachel?" Quinn hissed as she walked closer to Rachel. "Do you have _any_ idea how irresponsible you're being, showing up at my house in the middle of the night, when my _husband _is here, no less? Do you _think_ Rachel or do you just act on whatever fits your mood at any given moment?"

"Right, Quinn, because you're just the embodiment of impulse control."

"Don't you _dare_ turn around and make this about me, Rachel. Just tell me what was so important that you couldn't wait to talk to me until my _husband _left tomorrow evening?" Quinn didn't know she still had the ability to hold her old high school glare as long as she just had, but she also couldn't remember the last time she'd been so mad. Rachel just looked silently at the ground.

"The movie is finished." Rachel said.

"Are you joking?" Quinn bitingly asked. "You dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night to tell me your _movie _was finished?"

"The movie is done."

"Why are you here, Rachel?"

"Give me a reason to stay, Quinn."

"What?" Quinn felt her breath catch in her throat. She had forgotten that Rachel didn't actually _live _in Los Angeles. This was temporary. And now the movie was done. There was no reason for Rachel to stay.

"The movie is _done,_" Rachel said, interrupting Quinn's thought process._ "_No more filming, no more ADR…I have no reason to stay in LA. I own an apartment in New York. I have friends in New York. I have a life, my _own _life, waiting for me."

"Well, it sounds like you have your mind made up. I don't know why you came here."

"Because…"Rachel began, grasping both of Quinn's hands in her own. "I want you to give me a reason to not leave."

"Sarah."

"You know things will never go anywhere with us. I'm surprised we made it this far. We're too similar to love one another."

"You want to transition into movie acting."

"I can always fly from New York, and most talent agencies have New York and Los Angeles offices."

"Well then I don't know what to say, Rachel," Quinn said, barely keeping control of the bitch voice she was trying to maintain.

"You can't think of anything that would make me want to stay here?"

"No." They stood in silence until Rachel finally dropped Quinn's hands.

"I'm such an idiot!" Rachel yelled. "God, I can't believe I thought this time would be different. This didn't mean anything to you, did it Quinn?"

"How can you say that to me? I put _everything _on the line because I wanted this. But we're not kids anymore, Rach, can't you see that? I'm married, and I owe it to my husband and my children to at least attempt to make my marriage work." Rachel looked at the ground. "So if you were hoping _I _ was the reason to stay here, you're mistaken. I can't, Rach, I just can't." She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I would have dropped it all for you, you know that?"

"You don't have as much to lose as I do," Quinn said through a sniffle, consciously straightening her back to regain what little illusion she had that she still had the upper hand.

"That was harsh, Quinn." Rachel said simply. She climbed in her car, but before she drove off, she rolled her window down. "You're selfish, Quinn, you know that? You always have been and you always will be. You slept with Puck because you were insecure, and then you told Finn he was Beth's father because he was the safer option. You dated Finn to be Prom Queen, and you dated Sam, but only when he was the Quarterback, and you treated Puck like shit after you had his baby because it made you feel better about yourself. You only started dating Justin for the popularity in college, and for someone to hang out with because Santana was too busy being in love with Brittany. You married him because you were pregnant and marrying him meant a lifetime of security. And you slept with me because it eased a little of the loneliness, a little of the emptiness you must feel everyday knowing that you are nothing more than a shell of a person. The worst part is, just like every other time, you will go back into your meticulously crafted utopia leaving yet another broken heart and another damaged individual. You're selfish, Quinn. I don't know why I thought you could change." Rachel rolled up the window and drove off without another word.

"This is the only selfless thing I have ever done," Quinn whispered, as Rachel's car drove down the street. She sat down on the curb of her perfectly manicured Beverly Hills lawn. She was pretty sure this had never happened in her neighborhood to someone over the age of 18. Once she had regained her composure, and was confident she had fought back all the tears she had for the night, she crawled into bed after Justin.

"What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

"Brittany and Santana had a baby problem."

"Then why'd they send Rachel to ask it?" Quinn felt her heart clench in her chest.

"Who knows, they're weird. Go to sleep, babe," Quinn said, folding herself into her husband.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: **I just want to thank everyone for their patience waiting for this update. The updates are going to be a little bit slower at this point, as they are getting longer and longer. And for all those unhappy with this update, remember, they're not called happy middles, okay? And thank you all for reviewing!

* * *

The house was quiet again. Quinn was used to this. Usually, however, Quinn didn't enjoy it. Tonight the silence wasn't lonely, rather, it was peaceful and refreshing. Justin had left for the airport around four, and the girls had long been asleep. They were tired; they had made Hannah's favorite vegan pizza and then played Cinderella for an hour. She sat on the bench in the backyard, sipping her wine and letting the bench gently sway back and forth. She liked the quiet this time, because she knew she needed time to think. To actually sit and think about all that had happened over the last few days. It was all so fast, she didn't have time to really consider what was going on. Rachel was leaving and Justin was claiming, again, to have changed his ways. She tried to reassure herself that she was making the smart decision, the responsible decision, but all she could hear was Santana rambling on about the feelings monster. Quinn didn't have a feeling monster, or if she did, she had scared it so far away, so long ago, that it would never show its face again. Quinn had rational decisions, calculated planning, foresight, and schedules. She knew how to make sure she was provided for, her parents were proud of her, and how to bury obstacles under the rug. Hell, she had buried obstacles and conflict underneath the foundation. Quinn didn't know how she _felt_. She didn't even begin to know how to think about her feelings, or what it even meant to begin thinking about her feelings. She picked up her glass of wine and walked into the office. She rarely spent time there—it reminded her of bills and taxes. Not that she _actually_ had to deal with those, but still, whenever their accountant had problems, this was the unpleasant place they were dealt with. She sat down at her desk and opened her laptop, fiddling through the different applications. The only one she really ever used was the internet. Sure enough, she found Microsoft Word and opened it up. Quinn stared at the blank screen in front of her for a moment, and then at the clean, silver keys. She took a sip of wine, and she began to write.

* * *

"We have to go to sleep, babe," Santana said, placing another light kiss on Brittany's lips.

"I don't want to go to sleep," Brittany said, huskily, running her fingers up Santana's side and gracefully trailing underneath her loose tank top.

"I don't want to either," Santana said, kissing Brittany again, "but I _have _to. This week is going to be crazy for me."

"I hate it when you have busy weeks…" Brittany said, kissing underneath Santana's chin and down her neck, "and you have to bring your work home," Brittany kissed Santana's collarbone, "and you have stay up late at night working," she moved her hand further up Santana's shirt so that her fingertips grazed the side of Santana's breast. Santana inadvertently let out a low moan at the contact combined with the feeling of Brittany's lips on her neck. "Especially since there is so much at home you already need to be working on," she said, allowing her fingertips to barely trace Santana's nipple.

"But what do I need to work on at home?" Santana asked through a light groan.

"There's so much," Brittany said, taking Santana's hand and sliding it into Brittany's panties, "you need to work on." Santana shuddered as Brittany guided Santana's hand into her soaked underwear. Santana flipped Brittany on to her back, skillfully keeping her hand inside Brittany's underwear.

"I better get started then," Santana whispered huskily into Brittany's ear.

* * *

Rachel glanced out the window. Los Angeles from 2,000 in the air was one of her favorite views. The city was so sprawling that it looked like an explosion of gold. She looked out the window until all that could be seen was darkness and slid the window cover shut. The pilot announced that they had reached cruising altitude and the passenger next to her called for the flight attendant. She arrived quickly, one of the many benefits of sitting in First Class.

"Can I get a Bloody Mary, double?" He asked the flight attendant who simply nodded.

"Actually, can I get one of those as well?" The flight attendant nodded to Rachel as well.

"Nervous flier?" He asked, after the flight attendant left to get their drinks.

"I actually quite enjoy flying," Rachel said. "There's something about being up in the air that makes everything else so small."

"I know what you mean," he replied.

"What about you? Why the stiff drink?"

"Why not?" He laughed. "I, actually, _am _a nervous flier. It helps take the edge off I guess…allows me to enjoy being in the air," he finished saying as the flight attendant returned with their drinks. Rachel took a sip of hers. "So," he said, playing with his straw, "are you going home or leaving home?" Rachel paused and looked into her cup, willing her eyes to not burst out in tears in front of this complete stranger. "Loaded question?" He asked, nervously.

"You might say that," Rachel replied. They sat in silence the rest of the flight.

* * *

Brittany was awoken by a big lick across her face from Lola. Lola immediately began licking all over Santana's face.

"Oh my god, Britt! How did she get in here?"

"I must have left the door open when I got up to get some water last night," Brittany said, nuzzling into their puppy.

"Ugh, it's late, I have to get in the shower." Santana jumped out of bed, grumbling all the way toward the shower. Brittany started her morning routine, with Lola nipping at her heels. Thankfully, Maria was still in town, so she had a little help taking Lola out and getting breakfast started and the babies changed. She was busy mashing some bananas when a shriek came from her bedroom. Maria raised both of her eyebrows.

"Want me to go check?" Maria asked, clearly concerned.

"No, thanks though. Can you just finish getting their breakfast ready?" Brittany asked, placing a kiss on the top of Olivia's head, who was banging her spoon on her highchair. Maria nodded her head.

"Santana? Is everything okay?" Brittany asked, poking her head into their bedroom. Santana was kneeling in front of her closet.

"No, Britt, everything is _not _okay. That _fucking _dog peed on my Donna Karan suit."

"Can't you wear another suit today?"

"Not the point, Britt." Santana fumed, pacing back and forth in front of her closet. Brittany walked behind her and started looking through Santana's closet.

"Why don't you wear the Marc Jacobs, honey? You know you look great in it."

"Whatever. It doesn't fucking matter, I'm late, I have to just wear whatever." Brittany nodded and placed a light kiss on Santana's cheek, heading back to the kitchen. A few minutes later Santana entered the kitchen while Brittany and her mother fed the twins, her briefcase already slung over her shoulder.

"You look nice," Brittany said cautiously, as she waved a spoonful of banana in front of Nico.

"Thanks, babe, sorry for snapping at you earlier."

"It's okay," Brittany said. "What time are you going to be home tonight?"

"No idea. Like I said, it's going to be a crazy week. Are you working today?"

"No, I'm just going to spend the day with Maria," Brittany said, glancing over at Maria with a small smile.

"Okay, I'll call you later." Santana kissed her mother and her two children on the cheek and gave Brittany a quick peck on the lips before rushing out of the house.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Maria said, glancing up from feeding Nico to look at Brittany. Brittany just smiled sadly.

"I think she's stressed again."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi, J, how was your flight?"

"Turbulent. There were thunderstorms over the Midwest. How was your night?"

"It was nice, we made vegan pizza and played Cinderella." Justin chuckled on the other end. "So, I was wondering if you were coming home this weekend?" Quinn asked hopefully.

"I don't think I can, babe, but next weekend for sure. You know how it is."

"It's kind of important you come home. I really need to talk to you about something."

"I just can't. You have to know that I wish with all my heart I could come home every weekend, but that's just not in the cards for me. Listen, I have to go, but I'll call you before I go to bed tonight, okay?" Quinn didn't respond. "I love you, babe."

"You too, J."

Quinn shut her phone and took a sip of her coffee. This was his job, she reasoned with herself. She knew what she was getting into when she married a football player. _Her _job was to be supportive of his life and to raise their children. She briefly considered getting her computer and looking at what she had written the night before, but it had been so long since she had written anything, she was afraid to see what was on the page. She'd wait. She'd look at it tonight. Or tomorrow. She'd look at it eventually.

* * *

Rachel was surprised by how much she missed her apartment, and by how much she missed New York in general. She had been so distracted by everything that was going on in LA that she hadn't really thought about the fact that she did have her own life. She had missed the slightly dusty, lavender smell her apartment always seemed to have. She missed the cold comfort of the exposed brick of her walls, the tiny kitchen that looked right out into the living room, and the sound of the chronically fighting lesbian couple who lived across the courtyard. Even though she had rented the nice baby grand piano for her apartment in LA, there was something always nostalgic about the beautiful upright piano her dads bought her for her high school graduation and had been painstakingly moved from apartment to apartment as her pay grade went up. The sheet music to Evita was still open from the last time Kurt was over. She opened her refrigerator; the inside door was lined with condiments.

* * *

Santana was late for work. She didn't even bother going to her office, just breezed past her assistant toward the conference room where she was already 15 minutes late for her meeting.

"Lopez, nice of you to join us this morning," her boss said as she took her seat at the conference table.

"I knew those brats would make you soft, Lopez. I can't wait until I can take over that sweet office of yours. And that sweet assistant," said Jeff, a jackass a little older than her who had always been angry she'd been promoted faster than him.

"And I knew those donuts were going to make _you_ soft, and _trust me_, you're not my assistant's type. She doesn't do flabby middle-aged, _dudes._" Santana smirked and Jeff turned red. She felt a little bad for exploiting her assistant like that, but it was worth the satisfaction of Jeff's embarrassment.

"Lopez," her boss interrupted her gloating, "since you've decided to join us this morning, I suppose I can let you know in person that I'm putting you on the Madison Phillips, Natasha Stevenson, and Claire Wilson accounts."

"I thought those were all Davis' accounts," Santana said.

"Davis has taken a leave of absence, and you're our best right now, so I'm going to need you to add those to your workload."

"I'm brokering a deal right now for Puckerman and may be picking up Rachel Berry as a client as well. Not to mention that fact that I'm optioning Steve Peterson's new novel to Miramax."

"We can't lose clients because Davis has had some sort of midlife crisis and you feel the need to represent everyone who you went to high school in Ohio with. I'll have Sarah Williams assist you as you adjust to the new workload. You people all know each other, right?" Santana did her best to remember why she was not supposed to scowl at her boss. "Okay, I think that's it for today, thank you everyone." Santana scowled as everyone packed up their briefcases and left the conference room.

"Why didn't you give me a heads up?" She barked at her assistant.

"I tried to, but you were late and your phone is off!" Santana glanced at her phone and realized that, sure enough, it was off.

"Fuck! Fuck this! I need you to get Sarah Williams in my office asap."

"Who is Sarah Williams?"  
"She works here, you can figure it out. Call Brittany and tell her that I won't be home for dinner tonight, arrange a meeting with Puckerman, and move back my 11:30 with Leo Adelman from Miramax," Santana said as her assistant followed close behind her, frantically writing notes. "And get me a coffee." As Santana shut her office door, she saw Jeff leering at her assistant down the hall. "You know what, forget that, I'll get my own coffee, just get Sarah Williams up here. Also," Santana yelled down the hallway after her assistant, "forget calling Brittany, I'll do that myself!"

* * *

Almost a week had passed since Rachel had arrived in New York. Usually she was glad for a Saturday off, but she had the last seven days off and she was a type A personality—she needed to be busy doing something or she went insane. It was nice her first day back in the city to get settled in, unpack her things, and call up the friends she hadn't had an opportunity to see in months. In the next couple of days she met with her agent and her manager, who were both already hard at work getting her next job. She fired her lawyer and spent a few days trying to get in touch with Santana. It turned out that knowing her since she was sixteen didn't make it any easier to get past Santana's assistant. On Friday she finally received a curt email from Santana:

Berry-

I told you I'd fucking represent you so quit calling my assistant every fucking hour like an abused puppy on crack.

-Santana P-L

P.S. When the fuck do you get back from New York? And call Britt, she won't stop asking me.

_Sent from my Verizon Wireless iPhone_

Rachel couldn't help but smile at Santana's email. She knew that they weren't friends, exactly, but after the summer she couldn't help but find Santana's anger somewhat charming.

Santana P-L-

Animal abuse and substance abuse should not be taken lightly, Santana. They are both serious issues that you would know I fervently advocate against if you bothered to check out my website (.com). Regardless, I'd like to thank you so much for getting back to me. I just wanted to confirm that our informal conversation would come to fruition as a formal business agreement. This was especially important as I preemptively fired my previous lawyer and I doubt he would take me back out of a sense of pride. I am sure that this will prove quite profitable for both of us—we will be quite the team with your biting business ability and my jaw-dropping voice and dramatic talent.

I will be returning from this jaunt to my fair city in approximately a week and a half, I look forward to seeing you upon my return.

Sincerely,

Rachel Berry

P.S. Rough week? Or are you just getting the f-bomb out via email as much as possible before N and O learn to read?

P.P.S. Has it ever occurred to you that your children's initials spell out "NO"? With your penchant for using single letters in place of names (e.g. B and Q) it seems quite appropriate that your children would be your favorite word, "no".

Rachel was pleased with her email and sent it off, wondering what was left to do with her Saturday evening.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Hey, Kurt, it's Rachel."

"Rachel! What's wrong? You sound like Kris Kristofferson ala A Star is Born. Oh my god. You're not pulling a Kris Kristofersson are you? Because you are so Barbra in this scenario, up and coming, not even having reached your prime…"

"Are you in New York, Kurt?" Rachel asked, cutting him off.

"Yes, I'm working on a show for the next couple months. Why, Rach? What's going on?"

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Well, I was going to order Chinese food in with Elijah for the 19th night in a row, so I think it's safe to say that I am 100% free."

"Could you come over?"

"Of course, I'll be there in an hour."

"Do you remember where I live?"

"Of course I do, sweetie. I'll see you soon."

* * *

"Jesus, can't Berry send a regular f-ing email?" Santana asked under her breath as she put down her phone.

"You heard from Rachel?" Brittany asked, looking up at Santana. She was laying on a blanket in the grass reading a magazine while Olivia and Lola napped next to her. Santana had a stack of papers on the patio table she had been sorting through all day. Nico sat on her lap, playing with her large hoop earring.

"Yeah, I just got a typically long-winded email from her. She'll be back in a week and a half." Santana replied. Her phone began buzzing again. She looked at it hopefully. "G-Dammmizzle. It's my mother. Where the f is Sarah, she was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. Can you answer, babe?" Santana asked. Brittany nodded and Santana tossed her the phone.

"Hey, Maria."  
"Oh! Hi, Brittany! Is my daughter around?"

"She's working."

"Oh, well, can you let her know that I'm staying at Rita's again tonight but I'll be back tomorrow and I hope she can make some time for her boring mother."

"Of course, Maria! And don't say that, you're, like, the best, most least boring mom ever. But don't tell my mom that."

"Of course not, Brittany. You're the best daughter ever. And you can tell Santana. I'm pretty sure she knows you outshine her in everyway."

* * *

"I've been sleeping with Quinn."

"Quinn who?" Kurt asked, unfazed.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel answered, confused.

"I guess there aren't that many Quinn's. I must have misheard the first part of your sentence. Old age, you know? They say the hearing goes first," Kurt chuckled.

"I've been sleeping with her."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've been sleeping with Quinn."

"Quinn Fabray-Scott?"

"Yes."

"Like in a platonic, best friend, let's braid one another's hair and listen to showtunes kind of a way?"

"No, in a let's make passionate lesbian love kind of a way." Kurt's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Please say something, Kurt. Don't make me feel any worse about this than I already do."

"I…I…why, Ms. Rachel Berry, you have finally put me at a loss for words." Rachel was sitting at the piano and began to haphazardly plunk at random keys. Kurt got up from the couch and took a seat next to her at the piano bench. He took Rachel's hand in his own. "Do you…like…have feelings for her?" Rachel's eyes immediately began to fill with tears. She squeezed Kurt's hand tighter.

"I think I love her, Kurt," Rachel said, the tears spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks.

"Oh, honey," Kurt said, and pulled Rachel into a tight hug. Rachel let her head fall to his shoulder and finally let herself go, sobbing uncontrollably into Kurt's blazer.

* * *

"What do you think, mama?" Harper asked, looking up at her mother from where she mixed the ingredients for the brownies they were making.

"What do I think about what, sweetheart?" Quinn asked as she cracked an egg into the bowl. Harper looked confused.

"Billy broke all of my pink crayons and said pink was a stupid color and was just for unicorns and flowers and other stupid girl stuff, and I said that I thought _he_ was stupid, and what do you think about pink crayons?" Harper asked, exasperated.

"Oh, I think pink is very smart."

"I'm bored. I miss Hannah and Lily and Daddy." Quinn tried to conceal her grimace.

"Well, Hannah and Lily will be back tomorrow."

"When will daddy be back?"

"I don't know."

"Why can't I go on sleepovers like Hannah and Lily?"

"You can when you're a big girl."

"Why can't I go with daddy on his trips?"

"Because daddy is working."

"Why does he have to work away from home? Why can't he work in Lost Angeles like Aunty S and Aunty B and Rachel?" Quinn smiled at her daughter's confusion over the name of their city.

"Because football games are all over the country."

"Why can't he come home when he's _not _playing football?"

"Because he has to practice. And he has to rest his body so that he can win the Superbowl."

"Why does he have to win the Superbowl?"

"Because that's his job."

"Why don't you get a job so that daddy can quit his job and then he can stay home?"

"Okay, dear, why don't you go pick out a movie for us to start while the brownies bake?" Harper smiled and Quinn lifter her down from her cooking stool and helped her out of her apron before she ran into the family room to rifle through the movies. Quinn poured the poorly mixed batter into a pan and placed it in the oven.

"I'm a fucking idiot," she muttered to herself under her breath.

* * *

Rachel and Kurt had walked down to the bodega on the corner and picked up a box of wine. Kurt's reasoned, "if we're going to do girl-talk, we have to do it the real way, high school and college style, which obviously means vegan pizza and box wine." It was definitely the only way to do girl-talk, Rachel figured, as she poured herself her third glass of sweet wine.

"Are you going to answer my question, Rach?" Kurt asked.

"Oh, yes," Rachel giggled. "I forgot. You see, Quinn's an emotional cripple who has somehow managed to remain stunted in the high school perspective that her happiness takes a backseat to reputation and status. She is obviously operating under the terribly distorted perspective that if she can attain the material fabrications of love and a successful marriage that eventually she will internalize the results and has become so lost in the obsession with maintaining the illusion that she doesn't even see how miserable and alone she has become."

"Which I take it means that you two haven't really discussed your feelings for one another?" Kurt asked, only mildly confused after all of these years by Rachel's rant.

"I think she knows how I feel. I have absolutely no idea how she feels about any of it, except that she knows that it is morally wrong and that she can't simply break up her family. Which doesn't make any sense. Can you remember the last time Quinn was happy?"

"No, not really. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever seen Quinn genuinely happy."

"Exactly. She is so afraid of who she is that she has never allowed herself to _feel _anything. Quinn is not some fragile, naïve person. We're talking about a woman who got pregnant at 16, was kicked out of her house, and has a child whom she has never spoken about, who will be old enough to come find her in two years. We were _there_, Kurt. Beth was not a figment of our imagination. Yet, Quinn buries everything so deep inside herself that it's nearly impossible to see that anything exists beneath that shell of the bitchy Beverly Hills housewife."

"Rachel, I understand that you love her, but listen to what you're saying. In the past five minutes you have essentially painted a picture of a woman who is emotionally damaged well beyond her years and may _never _be able to fully realize herself as a person, at least without either having some magical form of personal revelation _and _probably years of intensive therapy to deal with all of the damage she has pretended doesn't exist for the last, oh, at least 15 years of her life. Do you really want to be with her? Look at how much she has hurt you are already." Rachel thought about this for a moment, swirling the cheap wine around in the glass.

"I do, Kurt. It's crazy, I know, but getting to see even just little glimpses of the human being who exists inside that shell this summer has made me want nothing more than to get to have _all _of her. We can't help who we love." Rachel began to tear up again. Kurt looked at his old friend with concern and picked up his glass of wine, sitting at the piano, plunking out a few chords.

"Isn't it rich," he sang. "Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, you in midair." Rachel smiled over at Kurt.

"Send in the clowns," she sang, joining him at the piano. Kurt paused for a second.

"I knew Babs would cheer you up," he said with a small smile, beginning the quiet arpeggios again.

"Isn't it bliss? Don't you approve?" They sang together, grinning.

* * *

"Have you talked to Rachel?" Santana asked, briefly looking up from the contract she was going over.

"No," Sarah said, simply.

"Everything okay with you two?"

"I mean, she's moving to New York. I live in Los Angeles."

"Wait, she's thinking of staying in New York? I thought she was planning on relocating here permanently."

"Me too. She's unhappy though, and I know by now it's useless trying to change or figure anyone else out so I'm giving her space." Santana's eyebrows knitted together, confused, the wheels in her head obviously turning.

"There's just no way we can through all this documentation by Monday. I don't know what that dick was thinking, piling all of this work on us last minute."

"He was thinking like a dick," Sarah replied, looking at the daunting amount of paperwork in front of them. Before Santana could reply, one of the twins began crying in the bedroom. Sarah looked up at Santana expectedly.

"Where's Brittany?" Santana asked.

"She's dancing out back."

"Fuck. Should I just let them cry? Apparently there's some form of parenting where you don't go immediately when you hear the baby cry…" Sarah raised her eyebrow at Santana. Santana rolled her eyes and got up. She returned quickly with a sobbing Nico.

"What do you need, little man?" Santana asked, bobbing the baby up and down. She tried feeding him, but he didn't seem hungry, he didn't need to be changed, and he didn't seem to have a temperature. Sarah was holding her hands over her ears as she worked.

"What's wrong with Nico?" Brittany asked as she came into the house with her water bottle in hand.

"I don't know, but I can't get him to stop crying," Santana said, visibly upset. Brittany came over and took their son from Santana. He immediately stopped crying. Brittany was too busy looking at her son to notice the hurt look in Santana's eyes.

"They pick up on our stress, San, that's probably all it was."

"Well, I'm very sorry that I got screwed over at work and it's now stressing out our children. I'll make sure to spend less time around them so as to not stress them out." Santana bit back at Brittany. Sarah wasn't sure if she should leave or pretend she was deaf, but she recognized that tone in Santana's voice and she knew this was not going to end well.

"Santana, don't take your work stress out on me. It's a fact that babies pick up on stress. It's not my fault."

"Well you could be a little more helpful."

"You know, I work too, Santana. And I know you don't take _dancing _seriously, but when I'm working on choreography in the dance studio, that's me working."

"Well, when your _work_ can pay our bills and I can quit my job and spend all day making sure that our children aren't stressed out, then you can spend as much time as you want dancing."

"You know, I think I'm going to call it a night and take these home, Santana," Sarah said, standing up. "Have a good night, ladies." She put a few files into her briefcase and quickly walked out the door.

"Great. That's not going to be awkward Monday morning." Santana said as the front door slammed shut.

"Don't worry, you can just take it out on me," Brittany said, storming off to Nico and Olivia's bedroom.

* * *

Rachel awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache and a snoring Kurt in her bed.

"I want to kill the sun," Rachel groaned into her pillow.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," Kurt moaned. "_This _is why we stopped drinking box wine.

"Coffee. Must make coffee," Rachel said, stumbling out of her bedroom toward the kitchen and flipping the coffee maker on. "We finished the box," she said to Kurt as he entered the room in his very wrinkled suit.

"Somehow I'm not surprised in the least," he said, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair. "Did we at least solve some of your problems?"

"If we did, I don't remember any of it." Rachel said.

"Well that was a waste."

"No, Kurt, there's nothing a like a little Sondheim to cheer a girl up when she's down." Kurt smiled meekly at her.

"Well, I'm glad to know that I could do a little to help you out, my dear."

"You always do, Kurt."

"I hate that you're vegan. How am I supposed to get over this hangover without some eggs?"

"Let's forget the coffee. It's brunch time." Rachel shut the coffee maker off, grinning at Kurt.

"I can't go out in this!" Kurt said, indignantly, gesturing to his wrinkled suit.

"Oh, it's New York! No one will care," Rachel said, putting her arm around Kurt's waist and ushering him out of the apartment. "It's good to hang out with you, Kurt."

"You too, Rachel. We should do it more often. Maybe with a little less wine." Kurt grinned and they headed out of the building.

* * *

"Oh dear," Maria said as she walked into her daughter's living room. Santana groaned and pulled her legs closer to her from her position on the couch. "What did you do this time, mija?"

"Mama, I didn't do _anything_, is it so hard to believe that sometimes _Brittany_ can be at fault?"

"No, my dear, but even you have to admit that it's rare." Maria was going to add a sarcastic quip to the end of her statement but when she took sight of Santana's puffy eyes and smeared day-old makeup she realized that her daughter may actually be hurting. "Come here, mija," Maria said, gesturing for Santana to stand up. Santana stood with her blanket wrapped around her and her mother put her arm around her shoulder and led her to the kitchen where she started a pot of coffee. "What happened?" Maria finally asked her daughter. Santana told the whole story, and only began to tear up at the end, which was pretty normal for when she and Brittany fought.

"Anyway, I don't know what to do, mama."

"You need to get help."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it sounds to me like neither of you really did anything _wrong_ in this situation. It sounds like you both have a lot on your plate right now, and you're finding it hard to balance family and children and heavy workloads."

"I didn't do anything wrong?" Santana choked out through tears.

"Oh, mija," her mother said, enveloping her only daughter in a tight hug. "I know I tease you, but, at this stage in a relationship, no one _really _is doing anything wrong. You're allowed to be stressed. So is Brittany. You're allowed to have bad days. What's important is that you find better ways to deal with your stress than arguing with your wife, and you find ways so that going forward the stresses of being an adult don't get to this point. You're new to this mija, but you will figure it out." Santana buried her head in her mother's shoulder.

"When did you get to be so wise, mama?" Santana asked.

"Oh, my dear, you must have not been paying attention to the last twenty years of your life, because I have always been wise. Your father and I were married for 40 years, mija," Maria said, smiling sadly and cupping Santana's cheek. "You learn a thing or two." Santana nodded and hugged her mother.

"Uh-oh," Santana said, lifting her head from her mother's shoulder. "Do you hear that? It sounds like they're starting to wake up." Her mother nodded.

"Go, mija, I'll start breakfast."

Santana walked into Nico and Olivia's room where they both were lightly babbling at one another. She picked Nico up.

"Oh, you don't hate me today, do you, little man?" Santana asked, cradling her son close to her shoulder. She nuzzled her face into her head. "I'm sorry I stressed you out. Sometimes mami just gets a little angry about work, but she doesn't want that to _ever _affect you and your perfect little self." Nico entangled his little fingers in Santana's dark hair, cooing gently and giggling as she played with his toes. "That goes for you too, my little lady," Santana said, leaning down to kiss the constantly growing blond mane on Olivia's head. "You're the prettiest little girl in the world, and mami never wants to stress you out. You look more and more like your mama everyday." Santana hadn't noticed, but Brittany was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a small smile on her face. Santana picked Olivia up in her other arm. "You two are getting to big for me to hold both of you at the same time," Santana said. "Let's go get that breakfast your abuela is cooking." Santana stopped when she turned and saw Brittany in the doorway. Brittany's face quickly shifted from the smile to stern annoyance.

"Hey," Brittany said quietly.

"Hi," Santana said.

"Did you sleep alright?"

"Not really."

"Me either." Brittany walked over and took Nico from her wife and kissed him on the head.

"I'm sorry for all the things I said last night, Britt," Santana said quietly, looking down at the ground. "I didn't mean them, I'm just really struggling right now, and I know better than to take it out on you."

"I know, honey," Brittany said, her face softening. "I know. We're both dealing with a lot right now. We just have to be nice to one another, okay?" Santana nodded and gave Brittany a light kiss on the lips.

"My mother is here." Santana said. Brittany nodded and kissed Santana's cheek.

* * *

After brunch, Rachel's day was, yet again, uneventful. Kurt went back to his apartment to explain his absence to his boyfriend and Rachel decided to go to a show, figuring that there was nothing like Broadway to cure a hangover. It hadn't entirely worked however, and despite her admitted Broadway high, she was still spending the evening alone, at home, wondering what to do with her time. For the briefest of moments she considered calling Quinn, because, despite all that had gone on between them, they were still, deep down, friends of some kind now. She fought the urge.

"RACHEL!" Brittany screamed into the phone.

"Hey, Brittany! How are you?"

"I'm good! I can't wait until you come back from New York!"  
"Me either. I miss you guys. I even miss Santana's biting wit."

"It's kind of addictive, isn't it? Like, if Santana and I were to ever split up, I probably would need Santanahab and be reminded of all the times biting wit was more hurtful than helpful. You could go with me! Santanahab Anonymous. To realize all the reasons things are better without Santana. Although, obviously, things are not better without Santana…"

"I take it you and Santana are fighting?" Rachel asked, cautiously.

"She's just stressed at work."

* * *

Santana had just put the kids down to sleep and walked back into the living room. Brittany was talking animatedly on the phone, so Santana decided not to interrupt her and went into their bedroom. She was secretly grateful her mother was staying in town for the next few days, she would never admit it out loud, but she and Britt really needed the help these days. She changed out of her clothes into shorts and a tank top more comfortable to sleep in. She knew that she should pick out something to wear to work the next day since she had three big meetings, but she was too tired, both emotionally and physically to deal with it. She curled up on her side of the bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Quinn was drunk. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but she knew it was inappropriate to be even close to this drunk on a Sunday night by herself. She thought she had put the days of these extremes behind her, and she'd been doing so much better all summer, but when Hannah asked about Rachel, Quinn poured herself a glass of wine, and before she knew it one became six. It was having the opposite effect it was supposed to. Nine times out of ten, drinking would put Quinn in a haze, replacing her unhappiness with an empty, fuzzy, sense of contentment. That one time out of ten, however, the alcohol would bring all of her feelings surging forward until they became an uncontrollable force to be reckoned with. After the first drink, all she could think about was Rachel, and as the wine flowed the more her head was invaded with images of Rachel and her together, and deep anger at her husband. She knew that the only solution at this point was to drink until she passed out. She stumbled into the kitchen and began to pour herself a glass of wine, but in her state she dropped the glass and then dropped the bottle. The wine and glass shattered on the ground.

"Fuck!" Quinn yelled, scrambling for some paper towels to clean up the mess she had made. As she knelt on the ground her body was immediately wracked with heavy sobs. They were uncontrollable, heaving throughout her entire body like waves. Her head throbbed as she clutched her sides, knowing that there was no way of holding herself together at this point. She was becoming undone.

* * *

Santana shrugged of the early stages of sleep when she heard her phone ring next to her. She sat up, sadly noting that Brittany still had not joined her in bed; she wondered if she were going to come to bed at all, or if they were still fighting. She looked at the phone: Fabray-Scott.

"Hi, Quinn," Santana said through a yawn.

"Aunty S?" Santana immediately woke up at the sound of the little voice on the other end of the phone.

"Lily? Honey, what are you doing awake? Is everything okay?"

"No," Lily choked back a sob and then began to speak rapidly, "I heard a crash and I went downstairs and mommy broke a bottle of wine and now she won't stop crying and talking to herself and I'm scared."

"Oh, sweetheart, it's going to be okay. I'm going to come over and check on your mommy, why don't you just get into bed, and stay on the phone with me until I get there, okay?"

"Will you sing me a song?"

"Of course." Santana began to sing into the phone, while she threw on clothes.

"What's going on?" Brittany asked, covering the mouthpiece of her phone as Santana rushed out of their room.

"Lil, can you hold on a sec?" Santana asked, covering up the mouthpiece of her own phone. "It's Lily. Quinn is drunk and crying, I'm going over there," Santana said. Brittany lifted her hand to cover her mouth.

"Be safe, honey," Brittany said, placing a small kiss on Santana's lips. Santana simply nodded.

"I love you," she said, and rushed out the door.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:** First, I'm sorry for the long wait between updates! Second, thank you, everyone who took the time to review! I really appreciate it! Third, there is very little Rachel in this chapter, but she comes back full-force in the next, so hang in there all my Faberry lovers!

* * *

By the time Santana got to Quinn's house, Lily had already fallen fast asleep. Santana gently took the phone that was cradled under her ear and made sure that the blanket was pulled up to her chin. She carefully tiptoed over the scattered toys, skateboard, and sports equipment to leave the room and check on the other girls. Thankfully, Harper and Hannah seemed to have slept through whatever had happened downstairs. Santana kissed Lily on the head and tiptoed into the kitchen. Quinn was crying quietly in the corner, the red wine sticking to the floor all around her in thick, sticky, puddles. She had her knees pulled up to her chest.

"Quinn…"Santana said. Quinn stopped sniffling and looked up to see Santana in her sweats and her hair tied in a loosed ponytail.

"Get the fuck out of here," Quinn croaked out. "I don't need your judgment right now."

"I'm not judging, Q, I'm not judging. You've seen me much worse than this. I just want to make sure you're okay," Santana said, gently, crouching near her friend. She took her hand. "What happened, Q?"  
"Nothing happened, Santana. This is my life. Welcome!" Quinn said, faking cheerfulness. "Welcome to the wonderful world of Quinn Fabray-Scott," she spat out.

"You're bleeding." Quinn looked down at her hand. She was, in fact, bleeding. "Let me get you cleaned up, Q."

"I don't want your help, Santana. You and your perfect life, with your perfect wife, and perfect family."

"I just want to help, Q, please let me help you." Quinn nodded and allowed Santana to help her upstairs. She barely moved as Santana helped her shed her clothes and placed her in the bath, letting the shower wash the wine and blood of Quinn's body. Santana helped her into her robe, and sat her on the toilet while she wrapped her hand with some bandages; she must have cut it on some broken glass. Santana tucked her into bed, much like she had Lily just an hour earlier.

"Thank you," Quinn said, cupping Santana's cheek as Santana sat on the edge of the bed.

"Always, Q." Santana said, brushing her friend's hair out of her eyes. "You know, it doesn't have to be like this." Quinn tensed up.

"You don't understand, Santana. You'll never understand. This is my life." Quinn paused for a moment, taking her hand away from Santana's face. "You can leave now."

* * *

"Baby, have you seen my Donna Karan suit?" Santana asked Brittany, looking up from a pile of clothes in her closet. Brittany simply shook her head, gently bouncing Nico on her hip. Santana returned to shuffling through clothes. She was exhausted, and knew it was going to take way more makeup than usual to cover the bags under her eyes.

"Please stop crying, baby," Brittany whispered to Nico as she started to sort through the clothes that Santana had flung around the room.

"Fuck!" Santana yelled. "Why is there so much _fucking _laundry, Brittany?"

"Watch your language, Santana…" Brittany said, attempting to conceal the hurt in her voice. On the other side of the room, Santana used every ounce of willpower she possessed to not lash out about using whatever _fucking _language she _fucking_ wanted to use when she was in her own _fucking _house and had an important meeting, and every _single_ one of her _fucking _suits was dirty. "Santana, why don't you wear a different suit?"

"If I could find a different suit, Brittany, I would wear a different suit. Unfortunately, I've had to work 10 of the last 10 days, and I haven't had time to go to the dry cleaner, and the only suit I haven't worn is nowhere to be found."

"What are you trying to say, Santana?"

"I'm not trying to say anything, Brittany! I just need something to wear to work today!" Santana yelled from the bathroom. Before Brittany could respond, the sound of Olivia crying could be heard over the baby monitor.

"You know what, Santana? I'm so _sick _of you not taking my job seriously."

"Britt. I didn't say anything about your job. I _really _don't need to deal with this right now."

"You didn't say anything just now, but this last week all I've heard is about how _my _job doesn't count, how _my _job isn't stressful, how _I _should find the time to take your Donna Karan suit to the dry cleaner because it doesn't matter if I take time out of my work."

"Why is my Donna Karan dirty?" Santana asked, genuinely confused.

"Because it was peed on last week by the puppy and I haven't had time to clean it. Because I'm not your little housewife here to take care of all of your bullshit all the time and you were _there_ when she peed on your suit. Because I love my job and my job takes work and I'm so sick of you making it seem stupid!" Brittany said all in one breath, her flush reaching up to her ears.

"Brittany, I wasn't implying anything! I just need my damn suit!" Santana said, exasperated and confused by her wife's outburst.

"I have to go check on our daughter," Brittany said, storming out of the room.

* * *

Quinn's head and hand were throbbing when her alarm clock went off the next morning. She struggled to piece together the night. She remembered there being a mess…and Santana, but why was Santana at her house? She vaguely remembered being naked…god, she hoped Santana hadn't been around for that. She didn't have time at the moment to worry about whatever had happened the night before, she had to get the kids off to school. Hannah was easy these days. Having Rachel around all summer must have worn off on her and she was always up before Quinn and intent on starting her morning routine. Lily, however, was still in a deep sleep. Quinn carefully stepped over her skateboard and a soccer ball and scattered toys and her guitar. She sat on the edge of her daughter's bed, gently rubbing her back.

"Time to get up, darling," Quinn cooed into Lily's ear. She smiled as her daughter gingerly rubbed her eyes with her fists and let out a big yawn. "You look like a little puppy," Quinn said. Lily shook her head, sleepily.

"I'm not a puppy. I'm a big girl." She said, through another yawn.

"Okay, big girl. It's time to get up."

"Are you okay, mommy?" Quinn was taken aback.

"Yes, honey, why?"

"You were crying last night and you broke the bottle and there was lots of blood," Quinn looked down at her bandaged hand. She hadn't remembered how she'd hurt herself and felt an overwhelming sense of shame at having her daughter be the one to tell her.

"I'm so sorry, darling, mommy is fine. I was just having a bad night."

"Aunty S sang me to sleep."

"I think she sang me to sleep to," Quinn said, sadly rubbing her daughter's back.

"She's good at that, isn't she?" Lily asked, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck, giving the universal gesture that she wasn't going to be walking around on her own this morning. Quinn grunted slightly as she lifted Lily off the bed and carried her toward the bathroom. "She has a pretty voice."

"Yes, she does," Quinn said, softly. "Let's get you washed up and ready for school, okay?"

* * *

Santana couldn't stifle the yawn that emerged from her as her boss yelled about some client who she hadn't even met before during her first meeting of the morning. She could feel the daggers piercing her skull as she tried to play it off. The contract with Paramount had fallen through, she gather, although she was pretty sure this wasn't even on her caseload and she wondered why she was here to begin with. She would never represent this sexist douchebag, and just listening to him talk about his story featuring a bunch of dissatisfied career women looking for a husband made her stomach turn.

"Lopez. My office. Now." Her boss barked as they exited the conference room. She silently followed him toward his back office, only breaking her stoic face briefly as his assistant raised her eyebrows at the scene. It was certain; she was pretty sure this firm only hired hot lesbians as assistants.

"What's this about?" She asked, unable to remove the petulant tone from her voice as she sat down across from his desk.

"What's this about, Lopez? This is about your apparent inability to do your fucking job lately."

"I think this is about you apparent inability to keep us fully fucking staffed lately and laying a bunch of extra shit on my desk in the last minute!"

"_That's _your fucking job, Lopez. I can't afford to be losing clients right now because _you_ are too tied up playing _husband _and _daddy_ right now because that bimbo of a wife you have can't handle it on her own." Santana was so shocked with his words that she couldn't think of a comeback. It was as though the air had been punched out of her and the room had begun spinning with her anger. "Every _fucking_ time one of my best lawyers' blond wives get knocked up, I get stuck with a useless, dick sucking, piece of shit lawyer crying to me about their hours." Santana laughed. "What the fuck are you laughing about Lopez."

"Oh, I don't even know where to begin. Should I start with your blatant homophobia, your lack of humanity, your sexism, or your simple idiocy?" Santana said, rising from her seat. "One. Sir. I am neither _daddy_ nor _husband_. I am a lesbian, meaning I am a _wife_ and a _mother_, neither of which have _ever_ interfered with my ability to do my job. Yes, I have 16-month-old twins at home, and no, have I ever allowed my family life to interfere with my work life. Two. My 'bimbo' of a wife is an award winning choreographer who refuses to let us represent her because she thinks it would be a conflict of interest, despite the fact that her personal success would be a huge asset for this company _and _she gives up numerous jobs every year because you are too lazy to do the job you started this firm for. Three. You have put me in charge of 23 clients with active contracts to handle, which is unprecedented. If I were a single _man_ this workload would be impossible to sustain. And yet, I have somehow managed to get _our _clients the contracts they deserve and you're still bitching at me." Her boss didn't speak. "So, I suggest that unless I stop doing my job to your satisfaction and am thereby forced to leave and take _my _clients with me, that you get off my fucking ass and return to the dick sucking you call a job." Santana picked up her briefcase and stormed out of the office. She didn't look at anyone as she exited the office afraid that if she made eye contact she would burst out in tears. She was pretty sure she had just lost her job. If she didn't lose her job, it would be a fucking miracle. She slammed her car door and leaned her head on the wheel and allowed herself to cry, to let it all out. She could feel her phone buzzing in her pants so she took a few deep breaths before putting the phone to her ear, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez," she managed to choke out.

"So formal for your mami."

"Sorry, I didn't check the caller ID."

"What's wrong, mija?"

"Everything. Work is shit. Life is shit."

"Language, mija."

"I just have so much work and Brittany doesn't understand and isn't helping out at home. Meanwhile, Quinn is having some crisis and Lily called me, terrified, in the middle of the night, so I was there well into the morning and I got no sleep, and I yelled at Brittany this morning and I yelled at my boss, and I'm probably going to get my ass fired."

"Mija, you have to learn to deal with your stress in a _productive_ manner."

"Mami, can't you just ever talk to me on the phone and say, 'I'm sorry, Santana, things sound stressful. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, because there are clear solutions to your problems and I'm not, nor have I ever been, one of those mothers that pretends that life is perfect."

"I know that, mami, of course I know that," Santana said, trying to choke back her tears. "Can't you just be sympathetic?"

"I am sympathetic, Santana, I just think more than sympathy right now you need some advice. And my advice is that you need to find a way to make your parenthood, spousal, and work situation manageable instead of crying about it."

"You know what, mami, I don't want to talk about this anymore. Why don't you go give some of your motherly advice to one of your other three children." Santana slammed her phone shut.

* * *

"Hello?"

"You figured out your shit yet, Q?"

"Oh, I'm doing fine Santana, thanks so much for asking. It's always so good to hear from you and know that you're thinking about me!"

"Whatever, Q, I've had a shit day and I'm not going to pussyfoot around it with some pathetic small talk with my best friend whose life is even more in the shitter than mine."

"What's wrong with your life?"

"Fighting with Britt, fighting at work, fighting with my mother. You know…fighting is what Santana Lopez does best, but I really just don't have the energy to deal with this shit right now. I'm too fucking old, you know?" Quinn snorted.

"Unfortunately, I do."

"Let's go do some Bikram."

"Right now?"

"There's a class at 4:30. It was either that or go to the shooting range but Britt gets hella pissed when I do that and I _really _don't need her anymore mad at me than she already is."

"Well, I mean, it's kind of creepy that you feel the need to shoot at things when you're angry."

"It's not like I would ever shoot a _person_, Q! It just relieves some tension…anyway, we're not talking about the gun range, Quinn, I just want to see if you want to go to some nice, peaceful, hot yoga?"

"Can we go get carnitas afterward?"

"Yeah, Q. I'll pick you up in an hour."

* * *

"Hi, Brittany, how's it going?"

"Santana already called you?"

"How can you tell?"  
"I just can."

"How are you doing, honey?"

"Not great. I hate to do this to you, Maria. I know you're on vacation…"

"You'd like me to look after my grandbabies for a bit. I would love to, obviously. Not that I don't love you two, but you know they're the reason I came out to visit."

"I know, I just don't want to make it seem like we are using you as a babysitting service or something."

"Never, dear. I'm out at lunch with Rita now, we'll be by to pick them up in a half and hour."

"Thanks so much, Maria."

"Always, mija."

"You hear that?" Brittany said after hanging up the phone. She walked over to the playpen the twins were in and picked up Nico, bobbing him up and down. "Your abuela is going to come pick you up! That way mama can do some choreography and you won't have to listen to mami scream and be angry with all of us for no good reason when she comes home from work!" Brittany said in her baby voice.

* * *

"Oh, come here, my darlings," Maria said as she walked into the house. Brittany handed her Nico and handed Olivia to Rita. "Your abuela and tia are going to have _so _much fun with you today."

"First, though, Brittany, _what _is going on with my niece?" Rita asked.

"It's really nothing," Brittany said. "I just need some time to work out some choreography for a gig I have next week and Santana's having a bad week at work."

"Oh, _do not_ give me that, girl," Rita said, using a very Santana-like Lima Heights Adjacent voice. "You know nobody lies to Aunt Rita. Aunt Rita's been _around_." Maria rolled her eyes at her sister. They all walked into the house and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this." Brittany began, bringing coffee to the two older women.

"Because even though we all pretend that it's not true, you've been telling us this stuff for the last 15 years." Maria said.

"Seriously," Rita said, "do not pretend like we haven't been having incognito girltalk for ages."

"I know, but, she's your niece, and daughter." Brittany pointed out.

"Brittany," Maria said, using her hand that was not holding Nico to hold her daughter-in-law's. "You know you are every bit as much a part of this family as Santana is. I believe you are the only one who knows my mother's secret five-layered dip recipe, correct?" Brittany smiled.

"Well, Santana knows now too…abuelita said I could tell whomever I marry."

"Oh, I'm going to get that bitch to crack," Rita said with a smirk.

"Back to the subject," Maria interjected, "what's going on with you two?"

"We're just both under a lot of pressure. It's really not a big deal," Brittany said. The older women waited, clearly not satisfied with that response. "I'm working again, and Santana suddenly got a huge new workload, and I guess neither of us is used to it. Plus, two babies, the dog…and you know how she gets when she's feeling stressed and insecure and doesn't have a hold of her life."

"She lashes out," Maria finished.

"And we keep doing things to keep it under control. Taking trips, going on dates, making sure we're making time for one another…but in the end…we just can't keep doing the day to day like this. No amount of romantic dates will make up for both of us working 12 hours a day and having two children."

"I think you two really need to talk."

"I know," Brittany said, with just the hint of sadness in her voice.

* * *

"I fucking hate Bikram," Quinn said as she climbed into Santana's car.

"No, you don't."

"Yes I do, and I'm hungover as hell and not sure that I'm actually going to be able to stay in the room for the whole class. You know better than I what it's like to do it hungover." They both burst out laughing at the memory of Santana vomiting all over her mat during a 9am hot yoga when they were in college.

"So," Santana said, catching her breath from the laughter, "how's that hand doing?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

* * *

Shockingly, Quinn did make it through hot yoga, and by made it, she managed to stay in the room for the full 90 minutes without throwing up and she could do some of the positions that required mainly laying on the mat.

"That was pathetic, Q." Santana said after they had showered and put their drenched clothes in plastic bags.

"I told you, Santana, I _hate_ Bikram. Besides, at least I stayed in the room the whole time, isn't that the whole goal?"

"Well, I think they'd appreciate it if you at least tried some of the moves from time to time."

"Whatever," Quinn said. "Let's go get food."

* * *

"Quinn, you know I love you, right?" Santana said, slicing into her burrito.

"Okay, this is weird, Santana."

"I'm about to get harsh with you, Quinn, and my therapist told me that I could still keep it real, as long as I make sure the people I love know that I'm doing it with good intentions," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "So, you should know that what I'm about to say comes from a place of love."

"Okay, Santana, go ahead," Quinn said, the nerves very apparent in her voice.

"Brittany, Rachel, and I have all been coddling you for the sake of your feelings for _months_ now, Quinn. Years, even. But it's well past time that you grow the _fuck _up. Life is not easy, Quinn. Every time you realize that you're going to have to do any sort of emotional work, you check out and revert to what is easiest. I _get _where you're coming from, I have children now too, and you know that I would do anything for them, but staying in a relationship you've been unhappy in for years is not doing your children any favors. They only know parents who fight, and a mother who drinks too much because she's unhappy."

"That's enough, Santana. Who do you think you are to judge me about my life and my life's choices? You come in here, all high and mighty because you have _everything_ figured out. I happen to remember a _younger_ Santana who was a raging _bitch_ to everyone because she was so lost. It took you nearly a decade to figure out what the hell was going on in your life, and you put Brittany through hell because of it."

"That's exactly my point, Q." Santana said, more calmly than Quinn expected. So calmly, in fact, that it made her stop talking. "I'm not sitting across from you right now claiming to be some sort of paragon of stability. I _know_ what it's like to be a mess, Q. I know what it's like to be so lost inside yourself that the only thing you can do is be destructive because it's the only way you can feel anything real. The point isn't whether or not I'm perfect or have ever been perfect or _will_ ever be perfect, for that matter, the point is finding a way to deal with yourself and your problems so that you can be happy and your not bringing down the people around you." Santana looked at Quinn, waiting for a response. She took Quinn's silence as a good thing and continued. "I have what I do today because I did the hard work to get here. I found a therapist who could help me deal with all my issues about my sexuality. I put myself in situations that were uncomfortable, but I knew would help me be a better person. I picked a career that allowed me to get my bitch on, without destroying the lives of everyone at home." Quinn smiled at this. "And despite all of this, I still have days where I worry about what my coworkers say behind my back. I still have moments when I'm having to come out to someone new where I wonder what would have happened if I had followed the original plan and married a reliable football player instead of a slightly daffy blond dancer. It will never be perfect. We are human, and we're going to feel insecure sometimes. But _this_, Quinn, this is not sustainable. No matter what you think you're doing to keep your family together, to keep yourself together, it's already unraveling. You can either deal with it now, or you can wait until its hit rock bottom and there's nothing left to do about it. This is my therapist's phone number. You should really call her." Santana stood up and started toward the front of the restaurant.

"You should really take your own advice, Santana." Quinn said before Santana could get out of the door. "Your problems aren't going to solve themselves either."

* * *

Santana threw her briefcase on the kitchen table as soon as she entered the house. She opened up the fridge—she wasn't hungry, it was just habit.

"Hey," Brittany said.

"Oh my god! You scared me," Santana said.

"Sorry," Brittany said, softly. "You're home early."

"I took the rest of the day off, after my meeting."

"Oh."

"Where are Nico and Olivia?"

"At Rita's with your mother."

"You were working?" Santana asked, eyeing Brittany's sweaty clothes.

"I was dancing…it's not work, remember, Santana?" Brittany snapped back at her. They just stood there awkwardly. Santana didn't have the energy to fight, and Brittany was not going to back down. They made eye contact briefly before Santana fixed her gaze at the floor.

"I'm going to take a nap, Brittany," Santana said. It wasn't angry, it was defeated. It was sad, and the sadness in her tone did not escape Brittany as she watched her wife stalk off toward their bedroom.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Quinn had first sat back down at her computer and written. Two weeks and she hadn't read what she had written that first night.

_You don't exist anymore. You walk around your big house and the space moves when you enter and the space comes back to fill the absences your body has left behind, but you are no longer there. You can't remember a time when you were. You wish time would stop, would pause somehow, and give you a moment to think about what's going on around you. Sometimes, when you've had enough wine, it feels like it has. Like the lines between who you are and who you've become and where the physical world begins have faded and you can just sit in the stilled time. It only ever works for a matter of seconds before the emotions of the alcohol remind you how messed up everything has become. You think of late nights in Ohio where there was more open space and time moved more slowly; maybe it was your age, or maybe it was the space, the smallness and the slowness of the town that allowed you to feel at peace with yourself. Although it's debatable whether you felt the peace even then. You remember nights sitting in Finn's beat up old truck, looking at the stars through the window, before Beth, before Puck, before Justin, and feeling so content with the world. You remember later, sitting in the same seat and Finn asking you if you even felt anything anymore. You didn't. You knew then that you didn't feel anything anymore. Feeling was hard and feeling caused pain and it was better, easier to not let it in than to open yourself up what the world had to offer. _

_ Sometimes you are brought back, but only for a moment. You never know what will trigger it. Sometimes it is a memory of Lima, before Beth, or a memory of standing on stage and singing as though no one else existed. Sometimes it's watching your best friends share a look, so much like the looks they shared when they were still in cheerleading uniforms and linking pinkies as they defiled the yearbook. Sometimes it's your youngest daughter's face as she tells a story or your eldest daughter's when she cries. Sometimes it's the memory of the daughter you knew for one day who will be celebrating her 16__th__ birthday soon. Sometimes it's hearing her voice, how even in her laughter she is singing because she is singing with everything she does. She is always emoting and with every word she utters, every time you hear her sharp inhale, you hear her voice, clear and pure, singing. You can't get her voice out of your head._

_You know they're there, on some level. Those feelings lurk beneath the surface and threaten to burst through and destroy all the work you've done all these years to make sure you couldn't be hurt, to make you the infallible, bionic housewife. It's never more than a glimpse anymore, a millisecond of humanity before you can shut down again, and make sure that no one ever gets to close. When they get to close, they run away, and if you make sure that they never know you, then you won't have to be sad again._

_ Sometimes you dream of something better. It is slower, and there is grass and dogs and your daughters never stop smiling. There are real stars in the sky and when hands wrap around your waist to say they love you, they mean it and you feel whole and connected again to this world. There is singing and soft kisses and the smell of fresh cut grass and morning dew. You wake from these dreams at once sad and relieved. To be happy again just means hurting later on._

_ It's preferable, not to exist anymore. To wake up and drink your coffee and make sure your kids are fed and off to school. It is safe to know that you are nothing more than an object to take up space, and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body's been._

"Mark Strand," Quinn says aloud to herself. She'd had a class her senior year that had Mark Strand as part of the required reading. It was her third class with this professor he'd always encouraged her writing and thought that she showed promise. Quinn and Santana had planned on getting tattoos the day after they graduated, and Quinn was going to get the Mark Strand poem tattooed on her ribcage. She had applied for jobs in journalism and Santana had just been accepted into law school. Before they got the chance to get the tattoos, or before Quinn even got the chance to go on any job interviews, Quinn found out she was pregnant and plans changed. Life changed. She hadn't thought about the poem in years. "Wherever I am," Quinn said, "I am what is missing."

* * *

It was late when Santana finally woke from her nap. She was hungry, and she couldn't help but wonder whether Brittany was still even here anymore. Of course she is. She's always still there, and yet somehow Santana always feels relieved after moments like these to find out she hasn't finally gotten sick of her bullshit and left.

"I'm sorry," Santana says, walking into the room.

"I know," Brittany replies.

"I know that dancing is your job. I admire you so much for it, Brittany."

"I know you do, Santana."

"Please, don't be angry with me anymore."

"I wasn't angry, Santana. I was hurt."

"I know," Santana said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Brittany pulls out some leftover Thai food and puts it in the microwave. "Thank you," Santana says softly.

"We have to figure this out," Brittany says as the microwave beeps and she piles food on to a plate for Santana. Santana smiles; the plate is from the first set of dishes they purchased from Target when they moved into their first apartment. Santana wanted to get the plain brown set that cost twenty dollars, but Brittany insisted on the forty dollar plates with rainbow stripes. They were plastic, and they had since upgraded to nicer dishware. When they bought the house after Santana had been hired by the firm, she'd wanted to donate them to Goodwill, but Brittany insisted they keep them as a reminder of how far they'd come, and in case they ever had children and needed something unbreakable and bright.

"This reminds me of our old apartment," Santana says, as Brittany takes a seat across from her and hands her the plate. "It was so small."

"It was cozy."

"And it had that annoying dog always yapping in the courtyard."

"With that avocado tree."

"And all of our couches were broken."

"So you were always forced to sit in the middle and cuddle up together." They sat in silence for another few moments. "We still have to figure this out." Brittany finally said.

"I think I'm going to get fired." Santana replied.

"What happened?" Brittany asked, quietly, laying a hand on Santana's forearm.

"I yelled at my boss. Lost my temper. Like usual."

"I'm so sorry, Santana. Well, we have our savings, and I'm back to working."

"I'd been thinking about starting my own firm anyway," Santana said, tentatively making eye contact with her wife. "I know all of my clients would come with me. It would just be a lot of work at first, you know, to get it off the ground." Brittany nodded. "But then I could set my own hours, work from home…" she trailed off, thinking about the prospect.

"I think that could be a good idea, Santana. You know, your mother offered to stay here for awhile. Until the holidays. Christian's children are older, Carlos' wife is a stay at home mom, and Daniel doesn't have children. She said she's lonely in Ohio."

"God, my mom, living with us…I don't know, Britt."

"It'd be like your abuela when we were growing up. Also, she could always stay with Rita, if you'd like."

"Why don't we talk to her about it when she comes by tomorrow?" Brittany nodded. "I'm so sorry, Brittany," Santana said, looking up at her wife with her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide, signaling to Brittany that she was about to cry. "I'm so sorry that I'm me, and that I yell, and that I can't be the perfect wife you deserve all the time."

"Honey," Brittany began, taking both of her hands across the table, "you are the perfect wife, I couldn't ask for anyone more perfect. We're just adjusting right now, and I'd never ask you to change. Not for anything." Santana nodded, gripping Brittany's hands like a vice. "Now, stop apologizing and eat. You must be starving. We'll talk to Maria tomorrow." Santana nodded again, and dove into the food. She _was _starving.

* * *

Quinn had read what she wrote. Read and reread and then read again. She was unhappy. Everyone knew that she was unhappy but her. Or maybe she knew on some level, but seeing it written out like that made all the difference in the world. She picked up her phone.

"Hello, you've reached Rachel Berry, I'm not available to take your call. Please leave a message with your name, phone number, and the time. Thank you, and have a lovely day!"

Quinn quickly hung up the phone.

3000 miles away, Rachel was dancing with Kurt and a few of her friends.

"Who was that?" Erica asked, glancing at the phone in Rachel's hand.

"Nobody," Rachel said. "Let's get another drink," she grabbed Kurt's hand and they headed back to the bar.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **This chapter may seem a bit like filler, but it's setting up a lot of what's going to be coming into play soon. I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the reviews!

* * *

"Hi, mami," Santana said, leaning in to give her mother a peck on the cheek. "Good morning, Rita," she said, leaning in to give Rita a kiss on the cheek as well. "How were my little angels?" She asked, taking Nico from her mother.

"Delightful, as always. He's a feisty one, Santana, he obviously takes after you." Santana smiled, giving her son a kiss on the top of his head.

"You're in a good mood," Rita noted as she dropped the overnight bags by the door. "Where's Brittany?"

"Making breakfast," Santana said, leading the women back to the kitchen.

"Good morning!" Brittany sang as she placed a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table. "You're just in time for breakfast! And thank you for taking care of our little babies," Brittany said, briefly slipping into her baby voice, "it was lonely here without them." She glanced over at Santana who nodded back at her, and placed a light kiss on Nico's head, who was still in Santana's arms. She quickly placed another light kiss on Santana's lips.

"So…I take it you two made up?" Rita asked cautiously, very much aware of the chipper mood of the household.

"Well," Santana said, "we had a lot of time to talk last night, and we actually wanted to talk to you two about something," Santana said. Rita looked nervous. Brittany took off her apron and took Olivia from Rita.

"Take a seat," Brittany said. Everyone sat around the table and passed around the food in silence.

"So…" Maria finally said, wondering if the girls were ever going to spit out whatever it was they had to say. "What's on your mind, ladies?" Santana took Brittany's hand and took a deep breath.

"Well, I'm sure you all know things have been…tense around here. I probably lost my job, although I won't find out until tomorrow, I'm taking a personal day today. I realized last night that perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. Britt and I did a lot of talking about how to…adjust to the stresses of having two children the same age and being working mothers. I have been thinking about branching off on my own for awhile now, and this may be the opportunity we've been waiting for."

"We have quite a bit of savings, and we were going to use it to soundproof our room," Brittany said with a smirk, "but we thought instead we may put an addition on the house."

"Add a second floor, to be specific. Britt already has the studio out back, so she can continue to do a lot of her choreography from home, and we are going to start working out the plans to add three bedrooms upstairs."

"And a porch," Brittany added. Santana couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Yes, and a porch. Eventually these two will need their own rooms," Santana said, gesturing to Nico and Olivia."

"And eventually, in a long, far off eventually, we'd like to give them another sibling," Brittany added, tentatively.

"So then we'll have our bedroom, a bedroom for each child, an office for me, at least while I try and get the firm started, and, hopefully, a bedroom for you, mami."

"I know you only said it in passing, Maria, but we'd love if, eventually, you'd be able to spend at least part of the year staying with us."

"And we totally understand that Carlos and Daniel are still in Ohio and you have six other grandchildren, but we wanted to put the option out there in the event that you'd like to, you know, stay with us for a bit." Santana looked up nervously at her food to find her mother's face. Maria, of course, was beaming. If Santana didn't know any better, she'd think there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Mija," she said softly, "I would love to. Absolutely love to."

"Really?" Santana asked. "I don't know if you remember, mami, but I'm kind of a pain in the ass to live with."

"Of course I remember, but how could I say no to those angels?" She asked, gesturing to the babies.

"I have no idea," Santana said, laughing as Nico spilled apple juice from his sippy cup down her blouse. "I think he did that on purpose."

"Boobs!" Nico said, clapping.

"You hear that, baby?" Brittany said to Olivia, nuzzling into her head. "Your abuela is going to come stay with us, just like mami's abuela did when we were little girls. It will be so much fun!"

"This is delicious, Brittany," Rita said, taking another bite of food.

"Seriously, Britt, thanks so much for cooking," Santana said, leaning over to give Brittany a peck on the lips.

"Of course, honey," Brittany said. "So, what did you all do last night?"

* * *

Quinn lay on her stomach in her bed with her laptop at her fingertips after putting the girls to bed. It was nine, and she officially had gone 36 hours without a drink. She wasn't an alcoholic, she knew that, both of her parents were alcoholics, but she was a problem drinker. She didn't want to join a program. There was something about the finality of it that she couldn't deal with. She didn't want to be like her mother, who couldn't have a glass of champagne at her daughter's wedding, but she also didn't want to be like her father, who was slowly dying of cirrhosis. She would just take a break, she reasoned, and drink when it was appropriate, which was certainly not a bottle of wine by herself on a Sunday night. Quinn was trying to figure out how to register for classes

when a screen popped up on her window.

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Yo, Q_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: You're just way too old to say 'yo', Santana._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Ignoring that. What's up? You never use your computer._

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: I'm registering for classes._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: For what?_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: Classes, S. They're those things you supposedly attended for twenty years to become a lawyer._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Fuck you, Q. Classes in what?_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: The writers program at UCLA Extension._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Awesome. You were always an awesome writer, Q. Listen, I was wondering if you could email me the info about that contractor you and Justin used when you were expanding your kitchen awhile back?_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: Why?_

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Just send it to me._

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: Not until you tell me why._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Are you six, Q? Britt and I are going to add a second floor._

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: Why?_

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Because we want our house to be pimp._

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: God, why can't you talk like a normal adult. And why are you being so sketchy?  
Quinn Fabray-Scott: OMG YOU'RE PREGNANT, AREN'T YOU?_

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: OH MY GOD, Quinn. NO, I'm not pregnant, Jesus. You're so fucking nosy. If you must know, I'm thinking about branching out and starting my own firm so I need an office, eventually Nico and Olivia will need their own rooms, Britt and I need help around the house and with the twins so my mother is going to potentially be living with us, at least some of the time, and ONE DAY, IN THE EXTREMEMLY DISTANT FUTURE, we may have another child, so we decided it was time to expand._

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: Why didn't you just say so?_

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Because that took too long to write and I have shit to do, Q. Are you going to send it to me, or not?_

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: Of course._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: Thanks. I have to go._

_Quinn Fabray-Scott: See you Saturday._

_Santana Pierce-Lopez: For sure. Bye,Q._

* * *

"So," Kurt said, swinging his Big Brown Bag from Bloomingdales as he walked arm in arm with Rachel. "Can we talk about the giant elephant looming over our shopping trip?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kurt."

"I beg to differ, Ms. Berry. One, you pulled a drunk Santana on Sunday when we went out. You know I like my drunk-Berry giggling and singing, not weeping into my new Marc Jacob's suit. Two, I read _Variety_. I know you got the part in the new X-Men movie."

"Well, I'd be crazy to turn it down. I know it's a change of my usual taste, but my agent thinks it would be great move to make me into a household name. Besides, plenty of academy award winning actresses have tried their hand at an action movie. Halle Berry, Angelina Jolie…"

"I'm not talking about taking the part, Rachel. I'm talking about being back in LA."

"It's not a big deal, Kurt," Rachel said, shaking her head as they took a seat on a bench by the park. "I still have a place in LA, and I'm going to keep the place here. If Santana gets me the numbers she thinks she can for this role, it should be no problem maintaining two apartments."

"I'm just going to spell it out for you, Rach. What are you going to do about Quinn?"

"I'm not doing anything about Quinn." Rachel said, matter-of-fact. "My career comes first, Kurt, you know that. _You're _the one who taught me that. Being caught in a lesbian affair with the wife of a professional football player would be devastation for my career right now. Besides, Quinn has made it perfectly clear that she is not going to change her relationship with Justin for me."

"Are you sure?" Rachel shrugged. "You're being awfully rational, right now, Rachel."

"She called me the other night," Rachel said softly. "I didn't answer though." Kurt nodded and squeezed Rachel's hand. "You know when were younger, and it seemed like love was the solution to all of our problems? That as long as you loved someone, everything else would fall into place?" Kurt nodded, thinking back fondly on memories of traipsing through the city with Rachel first in high school, and later in college, when they thought that love could conquer all. "I miss that feeling," Rachel said sadly. Rachel took a deep breath. "Besides, it's not like she's the only person I know in Los Angeles. There's Sarah."

"That girl you dumped?"

"And there's Brittany and Santana."

"Satan and Brittany and their twins who are rapidly entering their terrible twos."

"Still, Kurt, they've been really good to me, even though everyone knows they're totally overwhelmed right now. Anyway, Kurt, it's not like you're not bicoastal too."

"I'm not bi-anything. My heart will always be in New York."

"But you're body spends most of the year in Los Angeles." Rachel pointed out.

"True. Brittany did call me about Thanksgiving a few weeks ago."

"Are you going?"

"Of course. I haven't missed a Pierce-Lopez Thanksgiving in 7 years."

"Well, I'll have you in LA as well then, right?" Kurt nodded. "Enough of this depressing conversation. Coffee?"

"You read my mind!"

* * *

"How'd it go?" Brittany asked nervously, skipping toward the front door when Santana came in from her first day back to work. Santana put her briefcase on the floor and threw her keys in the duck bowl by the door.

"They didn't fire me," Santana said, relieved, taking Olivia from Brittany and kissing the top of her head and then kissing Brittany on the lips. "What's wrong?" Santana asked, noting the drop in Brittany's face.

"Nothing," Brittany said, walking over to the couch and laying down with Nico on top of her.

"Britt, you know we can't do this. What's wrong?"

"I just…I guess I was just excited about you starting your own firm and us figuring out a way to make this a little more manageable."

"Who said anything about that changing?"

"Well, you still have your job."

"Right. I still have the job with the boss that I hate and I am still overworked. This just means that I can still bring in an income in the next couple of months while we get everything worked out with the addition."

"So…the plan is still on?" Brittany asked, excitedly.

"Of course the plan is still on, baby." Brittany squealed making Nico look up at her with wide eyes.

"You're scaring our son, Britt." Brittany smiled.

"In that case, we got a spec of the plans for the addition from the contractor today," Brittany said, getting up and leading Santana toward the kitchen. She was practically bouncing. Santana smiled.

"I can't wait, Britt-Britt."

* * *

"Daddy coming home this weekend?" Harper asked as Quinn helped her get changed out of her ballet clothes and into a green and black striped dress. She slipped a headband with a bow into her youngest daughter's blond hair.

"No, you know that, Harper."

"He said he'd come home more often."

"Well, he has to work, dear."

"Why do we have to go to dinner at Aunt S and B's?"

"Because it's nice and they invited us and you haven't seen your cousins in a little while."

"We saw them like, a week ago, and they're not even really our cousins."

"What's gotten into you, Harper?" She didn't respond. "Why would you say that about Nico and Olivia?"

"I dunno. Cause we're learning about family trees in school and Auntie B and Auntie S aren't _really_ your sisters so then Nico and Olivia _can't _really be our cousins."

"Brittany and Santana are like sisters to me, though. Much more like sisters than my own sister ever was. See the thing is, it's not blood that makes a family, it's _love_, and I love Brittany and Santana like they're my sisters. Do you understand?" Harper nodded.

"I miss daddy."

"I know you do." Quinn said, hugging her daughter. "I'm so sorry he's not here." Quinn hugged her daughter.

"What's wrong with her?" Hannah asked, leaving the changing room, having changed out of her clothes.

"Nothing," Quinn said.

"She's such a baby." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Don't start a fight, Hannah. Let's go." She took a hand from each of her daughter's and they headed to Brittany and Santana's.

* * *

"I can't believe you're really doing this, S," Quinn said, leaning over the kitchen table and looking at some preliminary blueprints the contractor had brought over the day before for the second floor.

"It's now or never," Santana shrugged. "I'm lucky enough to still have my job, so we need to get the addition built while I still have a steady income, you know?"

"You'll have a steady income after you start your own firm."

"Obviously. I'm just trying to be smart about the transition period. And we all know it's only a matter of time before my boss actually does get tired of dealing with my bullshit and fires me, so it makes the most sense to do this now."

"It's amazing," Quinn said, running her hand across the blueprint.

"We were thinking, we'd build ourselves a big master bedroom in the back here, so that we have the balcony, and then Nico and Olivia can have the other two bedrooms upstairs, then my mother can take our old bedroom, the guest room will become the office and Nico and Olivia's room will become the guest room."

"Slash…new baby's room." Quinn said, nudging Santana.

"Yeah, new potential maybe one day in the very far future baby room. Jesus," Santana said, shaking her head. "Everyone is crazy. Can't we just take it one step at a time here?"

"We are taking it one step at a time, honey," Brittany said, entering the room and placing a kiss on Santana's cheek. "Dinner's ready."

"Baby, are you sure you should be drinking that?" Santana asked Brittany, eyeing the dark coffee in her hand.

"I'm an adult, I can drink coffee whenever I want."

"I know you can, but _should _you? You're going to be up all night if you drink coffee this late."

"I've never heard you complain about that before," Brittany smirked.

"Okay, guys, gross. I'm still here." Quinn said, interrupting the conversation. They had finished eating and Nico and Olivia were in bed and Harper, Lily, and Hannah were in the next room watching _Lady and the Tramp_.

"Sorry," Santana said, sheepishly. "So, how are you doing, Q? I didn't want to ask in front of the girls."

"Six days sober," Quinn said.

"Impressive," Santana replied, "you going to join the program?"

"I don't think so," Quinn said. "I'm not planning on quitting drinking forever, just relearning how to drink. In times of celebration, and not as a solvent for my problems." Santana nodded, understanding.

"Good for you," Santana said. "You know I've been there." Quinn nodded and Brittany smiled proudly at her wife.

"And, I made an appointment with your therapist for Thursday before Lily's guitar lesson."

"Awesome. You're going to love her." Santana said, smiling. "She's great, she's just really fucking great."

"Well, we'll see," Quinn said nervously. "I had better get the monsters to bed, before it gets too late," Quinn said, nodding at Santana who stood up. Santana helped her get all three to the car. Harper and Lily were asleep already and Hannah seemed to be on her way out.

"What's going on with Rachel?" Santana asked after the kids were in their car seats.

"Nothing," Quinn said, the hint of sadness in her voice. "I've called her a couple of times, but she's not picking up the phone."

"It's probably better, Q." Santana said. Resting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "How are things with Justin?" Quinn's face hardened.

"Who knows?" Quinn scoffed. "I listened to his bullshit again about being better, and yet here I am, week after week, just as alone. I don't know why I put up with this anymore…" Quinn mused, fighting back tears.

"Because you took vows, I guess. Because, somewhere, deep down, you still love him?"

"Took vows to what? To be miserable and alone the rest of my life? To be walked all over and treated like his nanny and personal assistant? This isn't a marriage," Quinn whispered, the anger seething through her teeth. "This is a financial arrangement, a child-rearing arrangement, but it is not a marriage. _That_," Quinn said, pointing to Santana's house, "is a marriage. The union of two people who share their lives together. Who support one another and make compromises and make one another better people. I want that, Santana."

"Why are you telling me this, Quinn? If you know this, why don't you do something to change it?"

"I don't know how," Quinn said softly, wiping a tear away from her cheek. "I have to go. Sorry for that…whatever that was."

"It's okay, Q. You know I'm always here to listen."

* * *

"What were you guys doing out there?" Brittany asked as Santana entered the house and lay down on the couch with her head in Brittany's lap. Brittany absentmindedly played with Santana's hair.

"You know, Q. She's unhappy, yet refuses to do anything about it."

"I'm sad for her, Santana. She's so sad all the time."

"I know, B," Santana said, rolling over so she was propped up on her elbows. She leaned up to give Brittany a kiss. "So…what was that earlier about staying up all night?" Santana asked playfully. Brittany got off the couch and began seductively walking toward their bedroom. Santana jumped up to watch her as she slowly peeled her shirt off.

"Aren't you going to come and find out?" Santana jumped off the couch and ran after her wife down the hall.

* * *

Quinn rolled her eyes to herself she was greeted by Santana's therapist. Of course this was the therapist Santana had finally stuck to. Well, now her therapist too, she guessed. The woman was tall and blond, very thin, and wore a power suit that accentuated her stature. She reminded Quinn a little of the substitute teacher they sometimes had in high school. What was her name? Quinn couldn't remember…maybe she _was_ getting old, after all.

"So, Quinn, what can I do for you today?" Dr. Phillips said, pulling Quinn out of her head.

"I'm not really sure…my friend Santana referred me to you."

"Santana Lopez, I presume? There can't be that many Santana's in Los Angeles County. She's been a patient of mine for many years now."

"I know, and she's really just grown so much since she started seeing you…" Quinn trailed off, not sure of where to go from there.

"Well, what can I help you with today?" Quinn didn't know where to begin.

"I don't know where to begin."

"Well, generally I find that there are two ways most people choose to begin. Some choose to begin at the beginning, and some choose to begin with today. Either way we get to the same place."

"I had a baby when I was sixteen. I gave her up for adoption." Quinn blurted out. She looked up at Dr. Phillips, expecting some sort of reaction, but instead the woman just smiled slightly and nodded her head for Quinn to continue. "I had a baby and I lied about who the father was. Everyone found out. Now I'm married and I have three children, not including the daughter I gave up, but my husband is never around, he travels for work, and I'm pretty sure he's been cheating on me for years, and I love him, but I'm not sure I'm_ in_ love with him anymore. And I'm having an affair. Or I was having an affair. I'm not really sure where I stand with…with the person I'm having an affair with. And that's it." Quinn finished, nervously, looking at her hands.

"And some people like to start by getting it all out there at once. I noticed you started off with the baby you gave up for adoption, despite the fact that there appear to be pressing issues with what's happening in your life now. Why did you start with that?"

"I don't know," Quinn said. "I guess because, maybe, that's the first time I really remember acting one way and feeling another. I guess it's the first time I really started lying."

"Lying about what?"

"About how I feel. About what I wanted. And it's a little like, once I started, everything became this huge lie that has been snowballing until it reached this point where I can't tell the difference between a truth and a lie anymore." And so Quinn talked. She talked about Finn and Puck and meeting Justin and her children and Beth. She was surprised when Dr. Phillips warned her that there were only 15 minutes left.

"Quinn, it seems you have a lot going on that you haven't really acknowledged for a long time, if ever." Quinn nodded. "Should we make an appointment for next week?" Quinn nodded again. "You can set that up with my assistant when we're done. In the last couple minutes we have here, I'd like to give you some advice for the upcoming week. I want you to talk to your husband, actually talk to him, about the places you'd like to see your life moving. Talk about getting back into the writing, and talk about the reality that you can no longer, realistically, sustain a relationship when one half is missing most of the time. Now, I'm not going to tell you what to do about your infidelity. I think you should go home and think about how you'll feel if you sustain keeping this secret from your husband, and how you'll feel if you continue this extramarital affair."

"I can't imagine a life without them." Quinn said.

"Without whom?"

"Without the person with whom I'm carrying on the affair," Quinn said, careful to dance around her gender specific pronouns. "I mean, not in a crazy, soul mate, Santana and Brittany sort of a way…it's different somehow. Like, we've always known each other, and sometimes it's negative, and sometimes it's positive, but, it just feels like, like we've spent a lot of the last 15 years affecting the way one another's lives progress, you know?"

"Do you think they feel the same way?" Dr. Phillips said, careful to stick with Quinn's gender neutral pronouns.

"I don't know how they feel." Quinn said, pausing. "That's a lie. I know that the person I'm seeing loves me. Or I think they love me."

"Do you love them?"

"I don't know that I understand what love is anymore."

"Well, maybe that's something else to think about this week."

* * *

It was the Miller's turn to take the girls to dance class and so Quinn just had to pick up Lily after school. Between piano, swimming, soccer, powderpuff football, and her new guitar lessons with Santana, there wasn't time for her middle child to continue dance. Quinn got out of the car to help her daughter get her backpack off and into her carseat.

"You remember my guitar, mom?" Lily asked as Quinn drove away from the school.

"Of course," Quinn said, gesturing through the rearview mirror to the little ¼ size guitar in the backseat.

"Aunty S is going to teach me a song by Flea and Mack today. She says they're one of her favorite bands."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," Lily said, nonchalantly. "It's called earthquake. I took my glove and I took it down," Lily began to sing. "I climbed the mountain and I turned round. Cause I've been 'fraid of changin'," Lily continued. Quinn chuckled lightly to herself.

"You know Aunty S sang that song to Aunty B once when we were in that singing group in high school."

"That must be why Aunty S likes it so much. She gets all silly and goofy looking when we practice."

"Must be," Quinn said.

"Do you love daddy like Aunt S loves Aunt B?"

"Of course, dear," Quinn said.

"But then why don't you get all mushy like Aunt San? And why don't you make those stupid lovey faces?" Quinn thought for a moment about how to answer this question. She didn't want to lie to her daughter, yet she knew it was not her place to let her child know that Mommy and Daddy had marital problems.

"How old are you, Lily?"

"That's silly, mommy, you know how old I am."

"No, but I want you to tell me."

"I'm six. I'm in first grade."

"And how old is your sister?"

"Which sister?"

"Hannah."

"She's eight and she's in third grade. And Harper is five and she's in kindergarten, cause she's the baby," Lily said, exasperated.

"Well, Aunt B and Aunt S have known each other since they were Hannah's age. And they were best friends then, and now they're thirty."

"Woah," Lily said, "they're thirty?"

"Yup," Quinn said. "They're thirty and they've been a couple, in some capacity, for like, 15 years."

"Woah. So that's why they're different from you and dad? They've been together for so long?"

"Yup," Quinn said.

"That's pretty cool," Lily said as they pulled up in front of Brittany and Santana's house. "And you've been friends with them all this time?"

"I have, more or less," Quinn replied, leaving out that awkward time when Santana was a bitch and Quinn was pregnant and Santana kept stealing her boyfriends and fighting with her in the halls. She could learn about those stories when she was a little older.

* * *

Santana laid on her back with her son on her chest as she read through the contract for X-Men that she had just received from Rachel's agent. Nico had been asleep for an hour or so now. His new bedtime books were his mami's contracts instead of _Goodnight Moon_, although she always managed to throw it in every once in awhile for good measure.

"It's no wonder you're asleep, baby," she whispered to her son, "this shit is boring." No sooner had she got the words out than she heard Brittany's squeal from the kitchen. Nico yawned and attempted to crawl off of his mother. "Well, there goes your afternoon nap," she said to him, picking him up and sitting up. She started for the kitchen, but stopped when she heard the doorbell ring. She checked her watch—it was still early for Quinn and Lily to arrive, so she turned toward the door instead of just yelling to let whomever was outside now that they could let themselves in.

"Oh, shit," Santana said, opening the door. Before either one could say anything, Brittany came running down the hallway.

"RACHEL!" Brittany yelled, pulling her friend in for a tight embrace. "I'm so glad you're back! So much has happened since you've been gone, and I'm just so excited to see you!" Rachel giggled at Brittany's enthusiasm.

"I missed you, Britt," Rachel said, returning the hug. "And hello to you too, Santana."

"Hey there, dwarf," Santana said, softening slightly. "It's good to have you back, it's been feeling way too peaceful around here."

"I missed you too, Santana," Rachel replied. Brittany took Rachel by the crook of the arm and they skipped off to the kitchen, both talking rapidly about New York and renovations and Rachel's new project. Santana stayed in the living room and let Nico down on the ground to play with the puppy. He, however, seemed more interested in Santana's cell phone. Santana got on the ground with her son.

"Let me see that, little man," Santana said, popping the phone open.

_Quinn Fabray-Scott:_

_On our way._

"Shit." Santana said out loud, for the second time in ten minutes in front of Nico. The text was from twenty minutes earlier. "Hey, Britt," she yelled toward the kitchen, "can you help me with something for a second."

"What do you need, honey?" Brittany said a moment later, skipping into the living room.

"It's Thursday. Quinn is on her way here with Lily for guitar lessons." Brittany's face dropped.

"Well, I guess we just give them both the heads up? I mean, they're going to have to get used to seeing one another, right? We're not going to just abandon one of them," Santana nodded. Before any decisions could be made, however, there was another ring at the doorbell.

"Shit." Santana said. Number three.

"I'll go let Rachel know and you get the door," Brittany said, picking up Nico. She walked back to the kitchen with the dog nipping at her heels as Santana walked to the front door.

"Aunty S!" Lily said, jumping into Santana's arms.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite niece!" Santana said, easily scooping the little girl up. "But don't tell your sisters, okay?" Lily nodded. "Hey, Q," Santana said, placing a quick kiss on Quinn's cheek.

"Hi, Santana. I have to tell you about my day, you won't believe it—"

"Hold up, I have to let you know, Rachel is here…"

"What?"

"I didn't know, Q. She just got back in town and just dropped by. If I had known I would have told you sooner…"

"Rachel is here?" Lily said, excitedly. "Can I go see her, mom?"

"Of course, dear," Quinn said. Santana set her down and Lily ran toward the kitchen.

"What should I do?" Quinn asked after Lily was long gone.

"That's up to you. I mean, the _adult_ thing to do would be to say hello, but it's just me and Brittany here, you don't have to abide by social graces if you don't want to."

"You're right," Quinn said. "It's not that big of a deal. I'll just go in, say a casual hello, and then we can get back to lessons as usual." Santana nodded and gave Quinn's hand a squeeze and they walked back to the kitchen.

"Welcome back, Rachel," Quinn said politely as they entered the kitchen. Rachel was holding Olivia and Lily was wrapped around her leg.

"Thank you, Quinn. It's nice to see you."

"You, as well. How was your stay in New York?"

"It was nice. It felt good to be home." Santana and Brittany made the briefest of eye contact at this awkward exchange between their friends.

"Why are you two acting so weird?" Lily asked. Santana wasn't sure if she had ever kept her mouth shut for so long. First, the conversing automatons, now the honest statement from the mouths of babes.

"I think we're wasting precious guitar time, don't you, Lily?" Santana interjected before she said something she regretted. Lily nodded and ran over to grab Santana's hand. They began walking down the hall back toward the living room. "Quinn? You coming?" Santana asked, realizing Quinn was not following her.

"Oh! Yes, sorry," Quinn said awkwardly. "Well, it was good to see you, Rachel."

"You too, Quinn." Quinn nodded at her and turned down the hall.

* * *

"Why is my mom being so weird?" Lily asked, leaning into Santana as she adjusted her hands on the frets of her guitar.

"Your mom is always weird, who are you kidding?" Santana replied, nervously looking over at a dazed Quinn.

"True," Lily agreed. "Yo, mom!" Lily said, yelling over to Quinn who was leaning back on Santana's couch, staring at the ceiling. Quinn looked over at Lily with her eyebrows raised. Santana nudged the little girl, who smirked a smirk much too close to Santana's for Quinn's liking. "If you don't start paying attention to my lesson, I'm a have to gets _all _Beverly Hills Adjacent on you. I don't think you want to mess with this." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Santana, do you think you can focus on the guitar for just _one_ lesson, please?"

"What? I have to make sure she can defend herself. _Nobody_ messes with Lily Scott, right?" Lily nodded excitedly. Santana returned to fixing Lily's hand on the guitar.

"Aunt S?" Lily whispered to Santana. "Do you _really_ have razor blades in your hair?" Santana smiled the smile usually reserved only for Brittany.

"No, honey, but that's our secret, okay?" Lily nodded excitedly.

* * *

"So…what's going on with that?" Brittany asked Rachel. They sat in the backyard, each with a baby in their laps.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rachel. I've known you for years and I happen to have spent many years having a secret lesbian affair, so I know all the signs. I mean, I practically have my doctorate in the secret lesbian affair."

"You were a teenager, Brittany. When it's appropriate to carry on secret lesbian affairs."

"So you admit that you are having a secret lesbian affair with Quinn?"

"Was. Emphasis on the past tense." Rachel admitted, looking nervously up at Brittany.

"How are you?"

"I've been better."

"You know, it's better this way, Rach. Trust me, I know how hard it can be to let someone you love go because they're not ready."

"But you've always had Santana."

"That's not true," Brittany said. "You always forget that I dated Artie when we were in high school."

"But you were still sleeping with Santana, weren't you?" Brittany blushed.

"Not my crowning moment, but yes, I still had stuff going on with Santana on the side. Have I ever told you how I first ended up dating Artie?" Rachel shook her head. "Santana and I had been making out, which was nice in our old Cheerios uniforms…they really _were _inappropriately short…"Brittany trailed off, eyes glazing over.

"Brittany?"

"Oh! Sorry. Anyway, we were making out, and Mr. Schue assigned us that duet competition. Where you and Finn sang that awful song? Why did you sing that song? And you wore that nun's uniform, which was kind of hot—"  
"Yes, Brittany, I remember."

"Well, I asked Santana if she wanted to do a duet with me. She told me, and I quote, that 'I'm not making out with you because I'm in love with you and want to sing about making lady-babies. I'm only here because Puck's been in the slammer for 24 hours now and I'm like a lizard, I need something warm beneath me or I can't digest my food.'"

"Wow. She said that to you?" Brittany nodded.

"So, I started dating Artie, at first to make her jealous, but then I really did grow to love him. And I realized that there was no point making myself miserable while she figured out who she was. If I had done that, she would probably still be in the closet today. And I wouldn't have these darling little lady-babies." Brittany cooed to Nico on her lap. Rachel smiled down at Olivia. "Who knows what will happen with you and Quinn in the future, Rach, but it was good that you stopped it now. She's married, she has three children, she has to figure _her_ life out before there's any hope that she can make anyone else happy."

"Has anyone told you that you're very wise, Brittany?"

"Once or twice," Santana said, walking outside. Lily ran over to Rachel and sat in her lap while Rachel handed Olivia to Santana.

"How was your guitar lesson?" Rachel asked Lily.

"Good! We're singing Earthquake."

"Landslide," Santana said, gently.

"You know your Aunt B and Aunt S once sang Landslide with our Glee Club?" Rachel asked. Lily rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know. My mom wouldn't stop talking about it in the car, and then Aunt S was talking about it…"

"Hey, Santana," Quinn finally said, chiming into the conversation, "you guys sang Landslide with that substitute teacher, right? What was her name?"

"Ms. Holiday," they said in unison.

"Ms. Holiday! That's right. I was trying to remember today because your therapist looks _so _much like her."

"Your therapist looks like Ms. Holiday?" Brittany asked, raising her eyebrows.

"What were you doing at Santana's therapist?" Rachel asked Quinn. Lily rolled her eyes. She didn't understand what was going on, but she knew the tone of voice everyone had. The grownups were about to get serious, and it was about to get boring.

"No she doesn't," Santana said, "Quinn's crazy, we all know that."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Santana, we've been together for 15 years, why bother trying to lie to me anymore?"

"Technically, we've only officially been together for 13 years, Brittany. Plus, if you count that month in college…"

"That's not the point, Santana."

"I mean, maybe she bears a slight resemblance to Ms. Holiday. Tall, blond, blue eyes, legs that go on for days."

"And people make fun of _me _for having a type?" Rachel asked, causing both women to glare at her.

"Wait, did you have a thing for Ms. Holiday in high school?" Quinn asked.

"Not a thing, Fabray, god, that's gross. She was hot, okay? It's not my fault I noticed."

"Ew, Santana, she dated our teacher."

"What does it mean to be 'technically' together? Is there a non-technical together?" Lily asked. Everyone silenced for a moment.

"You know, I think it's time we get going," Quinn said, picking up her daughter's guitar and extending her hand to Lily.

"Me too,' Rachel added quickly. They all quickly said their goodbyes to Brittany and Santana and walked out of the house toward their cars.

* * *

"It was nice to see you again, Rachel," Quinn said as they stood by their cars. "I hear you are working on another movie deal. Does that mean you'll be staying in Los Angeles?"

"Part time. New York will still be my home base." Quinn nodded.

"Go give Rachel a hug goodbye," Quinn said to Lily, who ran over and hugged Rachel tightly around the legs.

"It's good to see you, Lily. You too, Quinn," Rachel said, briefly making eye contact with Quinn. Lily went back to her mother.

"Maybe we could get a bite to eat sometime, you know, catch up?"

"I'm pretty busy these days, but you can always have Santana put you in touch with my assistant," Rachel replied, turning and getting into her car. Quinn aggressively fought back the tears behind her eyes as she buckled Lily into her car seat and got in the driver side. She sat for a moment collecting herself. She couldn't go home and drink. She was eleven days sober and she didn't want to break that. She had to pull herself together.

"Mommy, are you and Rachel not friends anymore?" Lily asked from the back.

"Of course we are, dear," Quinn said quickly. "Let's go home and get dinner started, okay?" Quinn said, glancing back at her daughter in the rearview mirror. Lily nodded and Quinn turned her keys in the ignition and drove off.

* * *

Rachel kept it together for about ten minutes before she had to pull over and cry. She knew she was doing the right thing, but she also couldn't help but feel bad for being so _cold_ to Quinn. Quinn was her friend, and Quinn was obviously hurting. It was just lunch, they could just eat lunch as friends. Rachel knew that wasn't the case. She and Quinn weren't just friends anymore, and reopening that relationship would just reopen that can of worms. Rachel took a deep breath and wiped her eyes before pulling back out into traffic.

* * *

"Brittany. You must realize this is the silliest fight we've ever had, right? You're talking about my _therapist_ who happens to bear a slight resemblance to a substitute teacher we had in high school whom I mentioned I was attracted to, in passing, and after she helped me deal with my confusing sexuality." Brittany smirked.

"I just like to see you get defensive," Brittany said, "it's cute. Plus, I really couldn't deal with their sexual tension. It seemed like a fast way to get them out of the house."

"That was manipulative, B." Santana said smirking.

"I learned from the best," Brittany said.

"Hey! I'm not manipulative," Santana said, pouting again, "anymore," Santana added on.

"See," Brittany said, kissing Santana on the lips. "Defensive. You're cute."

"I got it from you," Santana said, returning the kiss.

"Up, up!" Cried Nico. Santana picked her son up.

"Don't get jealous, little man."

"He's gonna have all the ladies swooning over him when he's older," Brittany said tousling his hair. "He may give you a run for your money," she said to Santana.

"Don't bet on it, Nico," she said. "No one will ever match Santana Lopez's game. Besides, I got the prettiest girl in the world, so you can never really live up to your mami," Santana said. Nico looked up at his mother's wide-eyed, clearly not understanding what was going on.

"You don't have anything to worry about, baby," Brittany said to Nico. "You're mami doesn't have game. Just a nice rack. You'll do just fine." Brittany said. Santana just gaped at her wife. "What do you want to do for dinner, honey?" Brittany asked.

"We're ignoring you," Santana replied. Brittany just shrugged, picking up Olivia and heading to the fridge with Lola on her heels.

"We have more fun without them anyway, don't we girls," Brittany said to Lola and Olivia. Santana laughed and walked over to help Brittany start dinner.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews everyone! They got me to get this chapter up quickly!

* * *

"Are you sure we should still have people over for Thanksgiving this year, Britt?" Santana asked Brittany as they stood in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Brittany looked over at Santana with her toothbrush still hanging out of her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Brittany said, her mouth still full of minty bubbles. Santana laughed out loud.

"You look like you have rabies, Brittany," she said. Brittany leaned into the sink and splashed water into her mouth.

"What do you mean not have Thanksgiving? We _always_ do Thanksgiving here, and it's too late to book a flight back to Lima, and my sister is going to be here since she didn't want to go all the way to Lima since her Thanksgiving break is so short."

"The house is a wreck though, Britt. There's literally a hole in the ceiling of the guest room and a half-finished staircase." Santana said, rubbing her face lotion in.

"We can't break tradition, honey," Brittany said, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist and resting her head on her shoulder so that they made eye contact in the mirror. "It will all work out, okay?" She said, giving Santana a kiss on the cheek. "You smell good," Brittany said, catching Santana's eye in the mirror again and smiling at Santana's soft smile. "Come to bed," she said, kissing Santana again on the cheek and walking back into their bedroom.

* * *

"I hate going to these things by myself," Rachel said, sighing as she threw her head back into the pillow on her couch in her LA apartment.

"I'm going by myself," Kurt said, looking up from Rachel's fridge. "Also, you should really put something in this fridge. An empty fridge makes a life look dismal. Like a storefront window full of naked mannequins. It's depressing."

"What about…what's his name?"

"Exactly. What's his name. He didn't make an impression on anyone, including me, so Kurt Hummel is going stag to the Pierce-Lopez Thanksgiving Extravaganza yet again."

"We can be one another's dates!" Rachel said, cheerily.

"More like one another's beards." Kurt said. "Now I'm having horrible flashbacks of Santana and Dave Karofsky in high school. Thanks so much, Rach. You've ruined my night." Rachel threw a pillow at him and Kurt threw himself on the couch, opposite Rachel. "Now…don't get me wrong. I love New York. No other city will ever match the passion, the drama, the fast-paced joie de vivre that New York possesses. But every time I'm back in LA…"

"The weather." Rachel said simply.

"The weather," Kurt replied. "It's just so lovely here. Who needs love when we have the beautiful sun to look forward to tomorrow morning? The fall breeze that cuts into the mid-70's November weather, the palm trees ghosting over our skin…"

"How poetic of you, Kurt."

"Let's walk down to Counterpoint tomorrow."

"What's Counterpoint?"

"You've been living in Franklin Village how long and you haven't been to Counterpoint?" Kurt asked her, incredulously. "It's a record and book store…but…they have used sheet music! It really is a gem."

"Okay," Rachel said sleepily.

"Don't worry too much about Britt's and Santana's. I've been doing their Thanksgiving for years. There are always a lot of people, a lot of delicious food, and a lot of general thankfulness."

"Thanks for being here, Kurt," Rachel said, reaching across the couch to grab Kurt's hand.

"Thank _you_, Rachel." Kurt said, grinning.

* * *

"Thanks for making room for me this week," Quinn said as she sat down in Dr. Phillips' office.

"Of course, Quinn."

"Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?" Quinn asked.

"I spend Thanksgiving in Carmel with my family."

"I hope I'm not interfering with your plans."

"Not at all, Quinn. I wasn't planning on leaving until tomorrow."

"Carmel is lovely. It must be a little chilly this time of year?"

"It is. Now, Quinn, I'm assuming you didn't come here just to talk to me about my exciting Thanksgiving plans." Quinn shook her head and they sat for a few moments in silence .It was her fourth meeting with Dr. Phillips, but Quinn sometimes found it difficult to open up when she first entered the office.

"You know, Santana is my best friend." Dr. Phillips nodded. "We met in middle school, and Santana and Brittany were already best friends. I knew they were the popular, pretty girls, and I desperately wanted to be friends with them. Brittany, of course, let me in with open arms, but it took Santana a little longer to come around. In the end, though, I became closer to Santana than Brittany. I always thought Santana might be a lesbian. It was a bunch of things. The way she looked at Brittany, the way she never seemed to actually like boys, just use them for popularity. We made out once," Quinn said nervously. "Brittany was there. We were 14."

"It's perfectly natural for young girls to experiment with their sexuality."

"Anyway, I never had a problem with Santana being a lesbian. In fact, I never really understood why it took her so long to come out of the closet. Like, everyone knew she was gay. Our school newspaper even ran something about it in the blind items column."

"Your school newspaper ran a blind items column?" Dr. Phillips said, incredulously.

"Yeah…you know, in retrospect, especially now that I have my own children, McKinley High was pretty questionable in a lot of ways."

"Why are you telling me all of this now?" Dr. Phillips asked.

"Justin is coming home for Thanksgiving. We always do Thanksgiving with Brittany and Santana. I haven't seen him in over a month. I know he's not going to be happy that I'm going back to school. I don't feel badly for not telling him. I _was_ mad. I was mad after he told me he was going to change again and then he didn't. I spent weeks moping around the house. Then I was mad at myself. Mad for thinking that after 8 years of broken promises that this time would be different. Now I'm just tired. I'm so tired. I'm tired of feeling bad about myself and I'm tired of feeling lonely. I've given him so many ultimatums and things never change."

"Then why don't you tell him that, Quinn?"

"I'm afraid. I've told him before, and he's never changed. I don't know what I'm going to do as a single mother, as a single person for that matter."

"Talking to Justin doesn't automatically equal being single again. Why do you make that assumption?" Quinn paused for a moment, thinking.

"I think, I think I want him to leave me. I want it to be over, but I'm just so afraid of being the one to do it, of the consequences of ending my marriage. I've been done for years though." Dr. Phillips nodded.

"Quinn, why did you preface this with the fact that you accept that Santana is a lesbian?"

"I…I haven't been totally honest with you about my affair. I was sleeping with a friend from high school, but not a male friend, a female friend," Quinn choked out. Dr. Phillips nodded. "You're not surprised at all."

"Well, you've been talking about 'the person your having an affair with' instead of using a gendered pronoun for weeks. How does it make you feel?"

"I'm scared. She won't talk to me now anyway, not really. I'm not a lesbian; I know I did love Finn and Justin at one point, but I'm afraid of what it means to be viewed as a lesbian if I start dating Rachel. If Rachel would even have me again."

"Quinn, I think you need to take things one step at a time. Today, you are still Quinn Fabray-Scott, married mother of three. Deal with your marriage this week. Even if that means ending your marriage, do what you need to do so _you_ feel good about yourself before you start worrying about who you may date in the future." Quinn nodded.

"Thanks, Dr. Phillips."

"Of course, Quinn." Quinn got up and put her clutch under her arm. "You took a huge step today in admitting your non-heterosexuality to me. You should be proud of that. I'll see you next week?" Quinn nodded again. "Oh, and happy thanksgiving!"

* * *

"_Thanksgiving," _Santana sang to the tune of _Trouty Mouth_. "_How you suck. I'm sick of stuffing all this cornbread up a duck."_ Brittany rolled her eyes while Santana looked over the stuffing recipe. "_Wanna stick a cleaver, in this stupid frozen bird, if I have to cook again I'm gonna…I'm gonna."_

"Want me to get out Mr. Schue's old rhyming dictionary, Santana?" Brittany asked smirking. Santana scowled at her. "You really are a one-hit wonder, aren't you?"

"You should be nicer to me, Brittany. You know how I feel about preparing Thanksgiving dinner."

"I know," Brittany said, wrapping her flour-covered hands around Santana's waist. "But you always have fun in the end."

"We're being super organized this year, Britt. I'm going full Rachel Berry."

"I don't know what that means."

"I've made a chart of what everyone is bringing and what we are making and how long everything takes to cook."

"That's cute, Santana. See, you love Thanksgiving."

* * *

"Cedes! I have you on speaker phone, I'm over at Rachel's." Kurt yelled into his phone.

"You don't have to yell, Kurt! Hi, Rachel!"

"Hi, Mercedes!"

"Santana won't stop calling about what we're bringing for Thanksgiving. What are you guys bringing?"

"So funny you ask, we were just preparing our dishes as you called! I'm making my famous foie gras, no thanks to the Home Ec department at McKinley High School."

"And I'm making an autumn vegetables vegan casserole and vegan mashed potatoes."

"I was thinking something simple like Sweet Potato Pie?" Mercedes said, nervously.

"You should call Quinn. I think she and the girls are making some sort of dessert," Kurt yelled into the phone.

"You're going to bust my eardrums and bust my career with all your yelling, Kurt Hummel. I'll call Quinn. Have fun, guys!" Mercedes hung up the phone.

"Hi, Quinn, it's Mercedes!"

"Hi, Mercedes. How are you?" Quinn yelled over the sound of her screaming daughters.

"Not bad. I just got off the phone with Rachel and Kurt, and they tell me you're bringing some desserts to Satan's Thanksgiving? I just wanted to make sure we don't overlap." Mercedes said.

"Apple pie and cherry pie…Hannah! Hannah! The flour belongs in the bowl, not in your sister's hair!"

"Well. Imma let you go, Quinn, it sounds like you have your hands full."

"Hold on a second, are Kurt and Rachel going to Thanksgiving this year?"

"Yup, practically the whole gang back together again!"

"Great."

"See you tomorrow!" Justin snaked up behind Quinn after she hung up the phone.

"Who was that?"

"Mercedes, checking to see what we were bringing tomorrow."

"Nice. Pie. Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, not really," Quinn said. She picked up her phone and walked to the office.

"Hi, Quinn, what's up?"

"How come you didn't tell me Rachel was coming to Thanksgiving?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew. Plus, I'm kind of busy trying to _cook for Thanksgiving_. "

"Well, it would have been nice to have the heads up, Santana." Quinn hung up the phone and went back to the kitchen.

"Who was that?" Justin asked.

"Santana."

"You sure I can't help with anything? I'm actually quite handy in the kitchen, if you recall."

"I'm sure. Hey, what do you think about _not_ going to Britt and Santana's for Thanksgiving this year?" Quinn asked, not looking up from her recipe."

"But we have all of these pies." Justin replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I know, but there are going to be a lot of people there, maybe we could just spend a nice Thanksgiving at home. Quiet. Just us and the kids."

"We always spend Thanksgiving with Brittany and Santana. They're family. Plus, the girls are looking forward to it."

"I know, but…"

"What's going on, Quinn? This is our family tradition, you love Thanksgiving. You're making two pies and a batch of cookies."

"Maybe I'm not feeling very much like tradition this year. Maybe I want something new."

"Okay, family vote," Justin said, puffing up his chest. "Who wants to go to Aunt Santana's for Thanksgiving?" All three girls raised their hands. "That's it, unanimous. This family is a democracy." Quinn scoffed. She returned to her recipe in silence.

"I just got the materials for my classes that start in January." Quinn said, breaking the awkward silence and breaking an egg into a bowl.

"What classes?"

"Oh, I didn't get a chance to tell you. I'm taking classes at UCLA's Writer's Workshop."

"Why?"

"Because I want to get back into writing?"

"You should have told me, Quinn. Who's going to watch the kids?"

"The kids are in school all day, Justin, and I want to get back to work."

"Isn't this enough for you?" He asked, making light of the situation and making puppy dog eyes at her.

"It's not funny, Justin."

"Well, you should have discussed it with me beforehand."

"I didn't realize I needed your permission."

"Seriously, Quinn. What's going on with you? You've been trying to pick a fight with me ever since I got back."

"Nothing. Just let me get back to finishing these pies."

"Fine. I'll go watch some TV." Justin stormed out of the room. Quinn put her cheerios smile on. "Who wants to help mommy make some crust?"

* * *

Santana had spent the last three days organizing Thanksgiving dinner. She had chopped all the vegetables needed a few days earlier, the turkey had been defrosting for a week, and she knew the exact time it had to go in the oven to be a perfect golden brown by 4:30. Still, the moment the day arrived she everything became hectic. It was inevitable that Lola would pee in the kitchen and Olivia would be fussy and Brittany would spill all the milk the night before. Next year, she'd have to make a list of possible unforeseen delays as well as her list of cook times and prep times and ingredients. She groaned as the doorbell rang yet again, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

"Well, well, well," Santana said, opening the door. "If it isn't the long-lost sister-in-law." Santana crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's nice to see you too, Santana. This is my roommate, Daisy. Daisy, this is my sister-in-law, Santana."

"It's very nice to meet you, Daisy. Perhaps you can explain why Gracie here is in school twenty minutes away and has only been by _once_ this semester to visit her sister and her niece and nephew?" Daisy looked nervous.

"Ignore her, Daisy. She's a bitch." Daisy's nervousness increased.

"Come here, kid," Santana said, pulling Gracie in for a hug. Gracie picked Santana up. "Okay, just because you're taller than me _does not_ give you the right to manhandle me!" Santana yelled batting at her.

"It's the right of all Pierce women, I believe." Santana rolled her eyes as Gracie put her down. She noticed the confusion in Daisy's eyes. "Don't worry Dais, it's just a little banter amongst family. But, seriously, Santana can be kind of a bitch." Daisy laughed and Santana glared at Gracie. "C'mon, I want you to meet my sister and my niece and nephew," Gracie said, dragging Daisy down the hall. "Woah, what's going on there?" She asked, noting the partially finished stairwell.

"Well, if you ever came to visit you would know we're adding a second floor." Gracies' eyes widened.

"Oh my god! Are you pregnant?" She asked, excitedly putting her hand on Santana's stomach. Santana batted her hand away.

"No! My mother is moving in. God. And why would I be the one to get pregnant?"

"I may not visit all that often, but I still talk to Britt and she told me about your plans for baby number three."

"Jesus. Go find your sister. I need an Advil." Santana turned and walked toward her and Brittany's bedroom.

"GRACIE!" Brittany squealed as her sister walked in the room.

"Hi, Brittany!" Gracie said, pulling her sister in for a hug. Gracie was the spitting image of Brittany, just a little lankier than her older sister and with a short, blond bob instead of long blond hair. "This is my roommate, Daisy."

"It's really nice to meet you," Daisy said. "Grace talks about you all the time."

"That's shocking considering how rarely she's been out to see us lately," Brittany said, looking disapprovingly at her sister.

"They're worse than my parents," Gracie winked over at Daisy. Brittany gave Daisy a playful nudge.

"How is everything? I need to know and I have nothing but time," Brittany said to her sister.

"First, I need a glass of wine and to see my niece and nephew," Gracie said.

"Both can be arranged," Brittany said, smiling, and led Grace and her roommate to the living room. Brittany poured her a glass and they sat on the couch.

"Have you talked to mom and dad yet today?" Gracie asked, swirling the wine around in her glass.

"No, I was going to call them in a bit…when Santana was free…" Brittany said, glancing over at Santana who was swearing at the Turkey in Spanish as she basted it.

"Alexis is bringing some guy home."

"What? Like a guy she is dating?"

"Yup. Mom and Dad are freaking out. You know Lex…she never lets anyone know what's going on in her personal life."

"He must be really special."

"I guess. She hasn't really said much to me about him before. Apparently they work in the lab together."

"Obviously. I can't picture Lex ever coming home with a guy who isn't one of those bones nerds like her."

"My other sister works in forensics," Gracie explained to Daisy. "Apparently, the plan was to bring him home for Christmas…" Brittany's eyes widened.

"Oh, everyone knows you don't bring someone new to Christmas." Brittany said, nodding matter-of-factly to Daisy.

"Why don't you bring someone home for Christmas?" Daisy asked.

"Well you do, eventually," Gracie explained.

"It's just…ever since Santana and I moved out here, we do Christmas all together."

"So, it's _all_ the Lopez's and _all_ the Pierce's." Gracie explained.

"There are a lot of us…it can be a bit…overwhelming."

"I mean…this is pretty overwhelming. There are an awful lot of you here." Daisy said, eyeing the room.

"Wait until you see Christmas," Brittany said, knowingly. "I think I should check on Santana." Brittany said, glancing over at Santana who appeared to be talking to a pot of cranberry sauce. Gracie nodded.

"I think your sister just invited me to Christmas," Daisy said, nudging Gracie as Brittany walked off.

"I don't think you _want _to be involved in a Pierce-Lopez Christmas," Gracie said.

"Really, Gracie?"

"Really. Also, I'm 21. Only my sister can call me Gracie anymore. I'm Grace."

"Whatever you say, _Gracie_."

* * *

"So…I take it you're drinking again?" Santana asked Quinn as she sprinkled a final layer of cheese on her Macaroni and Cheese and shoved it back in the oven. Quinn looked down at her glass of wine.

"It's been a month since I had a drink, Santana, and it's a special occasion. _And _it's my first glass of the day. Which in itself is admirable." Santana clinked her glass with Quinn and they both took a sip. "I need you to give me something to do."

"Why?" Santana asked.

"I'm hiding."

"Hiding from whom?" She asked, checking on the yams in the oven.

"My husband, Rachel, Kurt, and Mercedes."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk to my husband. Me + alcohol + special event = word vomit. The same story goes with Rachel. I'm sure Kurt knows, he and Rachel are close and they both were just on a little vacation in Manhattan. And if Kurt knows something, you know Mercedes knows it too."

"I think Mercedes is pregnant."

"What? Why?"

"She's not drinking, and she has that glow about her," Santana said knowingly. "Anyway, if you're going to be in the kitchen, you're going to help. Brittany is off gossiping with her sister, and I have like nine different dishes going at once." Quinn nodded. "Okay, I just need you to stir the gravy." Quinn walked over to the pot simmering on the stove and began to slowly stir the wooden spoon. They worked in silence for a bit, listening to the music playing in the next room and their friends and family eating and making small talk. "What kind of word vomit are you worried about?"

"I'm going to leave Justin," Quinn said, softly.

"What?" Santana asked, looking up from the potatoes she was mashing furiously to gape at Quinn.

"I don't want to do it over the holiday's though. So I just have to avoid him."

"Quinn. This is huge."

"Keep mashing your potatoes. This is not huge. We all knew this was going to happen eventually."

"Still," Santana said, pouring a little more milk into the potatoes. "I never thought I'd hear you actually say it."

"Well, we'll see if I can get through the weekend without saying it to him."

"Are you okay?" Santana asked quietly as she put all of her strength into the potatoes again, trying to pretend she wasn't a little out of breath.

"Surprisingly, I'm fine. I don't love him, Santana."

"I know." Santana said softly, catching Brittany's figure enter the kitchen out of the corner of her eye.

"You ladies seemed like you needed some help," Brittany said, smiling at Quinn and Santana.

"Obviously. Why do we keep doing Thanksgiving here?" Santana asked Brittany, wondering if she should check the yams again, or the cranberry sauce or baste the Turkey.

"Because you secretly love it." Brittany said, kissing the back of Santana's neck. Santana shrugged into her wife.

"I guess so," Santana smirked. "Now baste the turkey, woman!" Santana said. Brittany saluted her.

"Sir, yes, sir." She said, and all three women burst out in laughter. "See," Brittany said, opening the oven, "you love Thanksgiving."

* * *

"So, Santana," Daisy said, awkwardly sat next to her roommates' sister-in-law as they passed the dishes around. "Are you an only child?"

"I wish." Santana said. She saw Daisy's confused look. "We kind of all do our own thing for Thanksgiving because Christmas is such a fucking nightmare." Santana explained.

"So I've heard," Daisy replied.

"My eldest brother, Christian, and his four children spend Thanksgiving with his wife's family in New York. They're both professors at Columbia." Daisy nodded.

"Professors in what?"

"My brother has his doctorate in Ethnomusicology, and my sister-in-law has hers in Public Policy and Gender Studies."

"Very cool." Daisy replied. Santana nodded.

"My other older brother, Carlos, lives in Lima and works as a mechanic in Kurt's father's garage," Santana explained, gesturing to Kurt, "with Kurt's step-brother, Finn. And my younger brother, Daniel, teaches History at the high school we all attended. My mother spends Thanksgiving in Lima with Carlos and his wife and two kids, and Daniel."

"And your father?" Daisy asked.

"My father passed away a few years ago," Santana said softly.

"I'm really sorry," Daisy said, looking down at her plate.

"Thank you," Santana said. "It's okay. I have plenty to be thankful for," she said, placing a kiss on top of Nico's head. They were interrupted from their conversation by Brittany clinking her fork a little to hard on her glass. Slowly the table quieted down. Brittany grasped Santana's hand in her own.

"Santana and I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to our 12th annual Thanksgiving celebration. For those of you who have been with us since the beginning, you all know this is quite the step up from the first, held on the floor of my studio apartment in Hollywood." Santana and Quinn smiled at the memory. "And as our home has grown, so have our families and friends who have been able to celebrate this holiday with us."

"As has the size of our turkey," Santana said, to chuckles as everyone eyed the 30 pound turkey that was the centerpiece of the evening.

"So, for those of you who don't know, it's tradition around here to go around the table saying what we're thankful for as we begin our meal, because we all know Santana won't wait to start eating anyway."

"Thanks, Britt."

"Of course, honey. Why don't you begin this year?" Santana rolled her eyes. She hated this tradition. It always made her feel so awkward.

"I'm thankful for still having my job, and for the opportunity to begin working as my own boss so I can spend more time at home with my family." Brittany smiled sweetly at her and Santana smiled back before realizing that everyone was staring at her, "And for becoming the master of the turkey after twelve years. This shit is delicious." She said, taking a bite.

"I'm thankful for being welcomed into your home and family this thanksgiving." Daisy said.

"I'm thankful to almost be done with college!" Gracie said soon after.

"I'm thankful for our glee club family," Kurt said.

"I'm thankful for all the people who have welcomed me into their lives in LA. What could have been a very difficult, lonely year for me has turned out to be one full of love and companionship among old friends. You have truly made me feel at home." Her eyes caught Quinn's for half a second before she turned to smile at Brittany and Santana. Justin looked over at his wife, but she was busy trying to cut her plate with her eyes alone.

"I'm thankful,,' Mercedes said slowly, "to be surrounded by this wonderful family we've created, and that James and I are going to be able to add to it…" There was a stunned silence and then a squeal from Rachel and Kurt.

"You're pregnant?" Brittany asked wide-eyed. Mercedes just nodded and grinned.

"I called it!" Santana said pointing at Quinn. "I _so _called it, Fabray. I can't _wait _for there to be a mini-wheezy. We are going to have so much fun." No one missed the devilish smirk in Santana's eye.

"Oh no, Santana, you are not coming anywhere near my child. I've seen what you've done to Quinn and Justin's children."

"What? Quinn's kids think I'm awesome. Right guys?" Santana asked Quinn's daughters.

"Yeah. Aunt S is pretty cool." Hannah said. Santana gestured over to her.

"Oh my god, you're child is going to be _so _fabulous, Cedes." Kurt said. "I'm already picturing the baby fashion line I'm going to start in his or her honor."

They continued around the table. Rita was thankful for her family and her two children. Her teenage son was thankful she didn't say anything embarrassing and her teenage daughter was thankful they didn't have to do all winter holidays in Ohio. Hannah and Lily were thankful for their parents and their teachers and their friends. Lily was thankful for her guitar and her skateboard. Hannah was thankful for her perfect pitch. Harper was thankful for mashed potatoes and mashed potatoes alone. Justin gripped Quinn's hand before he spoke.

"I'm thankful for the Eagles having such a phenomenal season," Justin started, laughing. "For my three beautiful daughters who are always waiting with open arms to welcome their daddy back home. And for my beautiful wife, who consistently reminds me what is really important in this world." Quinn took a sip from her glass of wine.

"I'm thankful for my three beautiful children. You never cease to amaze me. I'm thankful for my wonderful group of friends, who are a constant source of support, even when I don't think I need it, even when I try to reject it, you are always there to make sure I have what I need and that I'm moving in the right direction. This year I'd like to give thanks to Santana, Brittany, Kurt, Mercedes, and Rachel. You are some of my oldest friends, and you are certainly some of the most honest, caring, faithful people I have ever met. I can never express my gratitude enough for how important you are in my life." Quinn finished, taking a sip from her water, avoiding the hurt look on her husband's face. Kurt squeezed Rachel's hand under the table.

"Britt, it's back to you," Santana whispered over to her wife, breaking the awkward silence.

"Oh! As you all know, I always have a lot to be thankful for, but I'm going to keep it short this year," Brittany said, glancing at Santana. "I'm thankful for my two healthy, happy, children. I'm thankful to be spending yet another Thanksgiving with my beautiful wife, my soul mate, and my best friend, who also happens to make a pretty delicious turkey. I feel so blessed to be living the life I only could have dreamed of when I met all of you, and I'm so thankful we are still sharing our lives together. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!" Brittany said, raising her glass.

* * *

"Hey," Quinn said, approaching Rachel on Brittany and Santana's back patio after dinner was finished and everyone mingled around, waiting for room to appear in their stomachs for dessert. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm getting some fresh air," Rachel said, simply. Quinn nodded. There was a definite flush in Rachel's cheeks that she could only assume was from all the wine Rachel had been consuming. "What about you?" Rachel asked.

"Same." Quinn said, now standing shoulder to shoulder with her, but careful not to let their shoulders touch. They stood next to one another in silence. "It's chilly," Quinn commented.

"Yes," Rachel replied. "Is there a reason you came out here?" Rachel asked.

"I told you," Quinn said, giggling slightly, "I needed the air." She nudged Rachel with her shoulder. "You're drunk…" Quinn said, playfully, along a small smile to form on the corners of her lips.

"Don't, Quinn. Just don't. Don't come out here and pretend everything is okay."

"I'm sorry," Quinn said softly. "I'm not…I just…I miss you, Rachel."

"You don't have the right to tell me things like that anymore, Quinn," Rachel said and stormed inside. Quinn took a deep breath of the night air and went in to find her husband.

* * *

"Oh god," Gracie said, eyeing Rachel as everyone lounged in Brittany and Santana's living room in a food-induced coma. "Rachel's drunk and bringing out the karaoke machine."

"That's an odd Thanksgiving day tradition…"Daisy commented. "Although there has been a lot of singing going on."

"They all met in Glee Club in high school. Get them together and they sing."

"There seems to be a bizarre amount of talent here for a class from a small town in Ohio. Like, what are the odds everyone would have been so successful?"

"I often wonder that myself…" Gracie mused. She was cut off by the sound of a Carole King introduction and a very drunk Rachel coughing into the microphone.

Santana and Quinn were talking about the plans for the house and the annoyance of having to work with and pay for an engineer, an architect, and a contractor when the crackle of the karaoke machine came on.

"Oh shit," was all Santana could say when she heard the opening lines.

_You walked into the party_

_Like you were walking onto a yacht_

_Your hat strategically dipped below one eye_

_Your scarf it was apricot_

_You had one eye in the mirror_

_As you watched yourself gavotte_

_And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner,_

_They'd be your partner, and_

Kurt glance nervously over at Santana, who was too busy looking nervously at Quinn.

_You're so vain_

_You probably think this song is about you_

_You're so vain_

_I'll bet you think this song is about you_

_Don't you? Don't you?_

Lily, Harper, and Hanna danced around to the music. Mercedes and James just looked confused. Quinn, however, glared directly at Rachel, not breaking eye contact. Justin glared over at Quinn. Brittany sat on a chair in the corner with both the babies on her lap and wished that everyone could figure out how to stop making eye contact with each other.

_You had me several years ago_

_When I was still quite naive_

_Well, you said that we made such a pretty pair_

_And that you would never leave_

_But you gave away the things you loved_

_And one of them was me_

_I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee_

_Clouds in my coffee, and_

_You're so vain_

_You probably think this song is about you_

_You're so vain_

_I'll bet you think this song is about you_

_Don't you? Don't you?_

"I think that's about enough, Rach, don't you?" Kurt said, dragging her away from the karaoke machine. "Let's let someone else have turn, okay?"

A few minutes later, Santana cornered Quinn in the kitchen.

"That was really fucking obvious, Q," Santana said.

"It's not my fault Rachel chose to sing that song."

"It is your fault that you stared at her the entire time," Santana said. Quinn didn't reply, just stared at her cup of coffee. "How many glasses of wine have you had tonight?"

"I had two, S. And plenty of water and coffee. God. When did you get to be so judgmental?"

"Not judgmental, Q. Again, I'm just concerned."

"Q, I think it's time we get the monsters to bed," Justin said, entering the room. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"Of course not." Both women said simultaneously.

"It was good to see you, Justin," Santana said, giving him a hug.

"You too, Santana. Tell Brittany thank you for me."

"Of course."

"And Happy Thanksgiving." He said, leaving the kitchen with Quinn right behind him.

Slowly but surely the rest of the guests began to leave. Kurt dragged a drunk Rachel out, and Mercedes left after she started to feel the impact of morning sickness and overeating. Rita's teenagers wanted to go out with their friends. Brittany and Santana stood in the doorway saying goodbye to a drunk Gracie and her roommate.

"Get her home safely, okay?" Brittany said to Daisy.

"Of course."

"It was really nice to meet you."

"You to Brittany, Santana," she said shaking their hands.

"Bye, sisters!" Gracie said, grinning. "Bye, munchkins," she said in her baby voice, placing a messy kiss on both Nico and Olivia's heads. "They take so much after you, Santana. I wouldn't be surprised if they _were _your kids," Gracie slurred. "And from the sounds I heard coming from Britt's room growing up, I wouldn't be surprised if _you_," she tapped Santana on the chest, "were the one lesbian able to impregnate a lady." Brittany turned bright red.

"Okay, that's enough, kid. Get her some water, okay?" Santana said to Daisy who nodded and shyly waved as they walked out of the house. As they walked down the path, Gracie grasped Daisy's pinkie tightly in her own.

"Did they just?" Brittany turned to Santana in shock.

"I think so."

"Roommates?"

"Who knows. Kids these days. Although, you'd think she'd say something to you if she were…you know."

"This was a good Thanksgiving, San," Brittany said, changing the subject.

"Best yet, I'd say."

"We have so much cleaning to do."

"What do you say we get these ones into bed and I show you how thankful I am for you, and leave the cleaning for the morning?" Santana whispered to Brittany.

"I love the way you think." Brittany smiled at Santana.

* * *

Quinn hummed to herself as she got changed while Justin showered. Justin's phone buzzed next to her. She glanced at the caller ID. _Santana Lopez_.

"Hello? Hello?" Quinn said, picking up the phone. All that could be heard on the other end was muffled talking. "Hello?" Still nothing. Then an unmistakable groan and Brittany's name. "Ugh," Quinn said to herself, pressing end. "Leave it to them to accidentally butt-dial me during sex." The screen reverted to the last screen Justin had been on.

_Regina:_

_Miss you ;)_

Quinn glanced over at the bathroom. The shower was still going. She clicked the text message button to see what else Justin had been receiving. Regina, Shari, Melissa, all ending in little winks, miss yous, and hi sexy's. She heard the shower turn off and threw his phone back where she found it. Before he could leave the bathroom, she shut off the light and crawled into bed pretending to be asleep. As soon as she heard his steady snore, she rolled on to her back and looked at the ceiling. She didn't care. She wondered if she felt numb because she just found out, or if because she knew this was going on all along and just needed an excuse to leave her husband. Some sort of catalyst. She didn't know. It didn't matter. Now she had it.

* * *

"This is a fucking nightmare!" Santana yelled over the sound of the construction occurring above them.

"It will be worth it in the end!" Brittany yelled back to Santana.

"Stop making breakfast, Brittany!" Santana yelled.

"What?"

"Stop making breakfast!" Santana bobbed Nico and Olivia up and down on both of her hips in attempt to get them to stop crying.

"What?"

"Stop making breakfast!" Santana yelled as the construction stopped mid-sentence. "Stop making breakfast," Santana said, softly now.

"Why are you yelling?" Santana looked at her wife in dismay.

"Because…the construction…it was….nevermind, Britt. We have to get out of here. Let's go to the Alcove."

"Honey, we can't go out to eat. We have to save money right now."

"We also have to remain sane, and there's no way I can do that with whatever the hell is going on upstairs." Brittany nodded in agreement. It took them a few moments to get everything together, but eventually they were all piled in Santana's car and driving to breakfast.

* * *

"What time does you flight leave?" Quinn asked Justin as she put her makeup on in their bathroom.

"Six." Justin said.

"Are you going to call for a car?" Quinn asked.

"Yes," Justin said. "Are you going to talk to me about what is bothering you?"

"Nothing is bothering me, Justin."

"That's bullshit, Quinn," he said, slamming his book down on the table. "You've barely said two words to me the entire time I was here. You wanted to reject the Thanksgiving dinner invitation at Santana and Brittany's, even though that's what we've been doing for Thanksgiving for years, and you haven't touched me all weekend."

"I don't see what the problem is."

"Well, for one, I'd think you'd want to be affectionate with your husband since you see him so rarely."

"It's funny how used to celibacy one gets over time, Justin. Not that you would know."

"What's that supposed to mean, Quinn?"

"You know exactly what it means," Quinn said, storming out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where Justin sat on a chair.

"No, I don't think I do."

"It means, Justin, that if you had ever gone weeks, months even, without sex, then you'd understand that it's just not a priority for me right now."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

"I saw your phone, Justin."

"You went through my phone."

"No, I answered it when Santana was calling last night and when I hung up it reverted to your last text message. I know you're cheating on me."

"And you're going to sit here all high and mighty as though you're some fucking saint, Quinn? What's going on with you and Rachel?" The silence pooled between them.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Rachel is a friend. _Rachel_ has been here to help take care of our children when you weren't, and to keep me company so I don't have to spend another night alone."

"Do you think I'm stupid? I see the way you look at her. I _know _she showed up here in the middle of the night the last time I came to visit. You were totally fine about going to Brittany and Santana's for dinner until you found out that Rachel was going."

"Stop!" Quinn screamed. "Stop trying to make this about me, when we're talking about you and your obvious infidelities. I'm _straight_, Justin, Rachel is just a friend." Quinn hoped Justin couldn't hear that slight waver in her voice when she said she was straight.

"You _were _straight. My mother warned me about you hanging out with those fucking lesbians all the time."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me, Justin. Are you listening to yourself right now? For one, Brittany and Santana are your _friends_, and you're sitting here spouting off some homophobic bullshit from your sixty-year-old mother? How would you feel if Santana heard you right now? Two, Justin, if I were not straight, you know as well as I do it would have nothing to do with the friends I've had since I was in middle school. Three, you're finding anyway to avoid talking about the fact that you're cheating on me."

"You're right, I should have known you were a dyke back when I realized that your two oldest friends were lesbians." They both stood in silence at his words. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You know I didn't mean that, you know I would never use that word."

"You just _did_ use that word, Justin."

"It just came out in the heat of the moment."

"I don't care what it came out of. You know how I feel about that. I thought you felt the same way."

"I do."

"I don't know what to think anymore." They sat in silence. "I've given you so many chances, Justin, so many chances to make this better. We've been together for 12 years, Justin. I've barely seen you for eight of those years. Your children don't know you. You don't know _me _anymore. I live life like a single mother, and I guess I was able to handle it somewhat as long as I pretended not to know what you were doing on the side. But now I know. And now I can't pretend that this relationship has been dead for years."

"You don't know what you're saying, Quinn."

"NO!" Quinn yelled. "I know _exactly_ what I'm saying. I'm not some impressionable young woman anymore who will take whatever I can get from my football player husband. I've given you too many chances to make this right, and I can't keep making myself miserable anymore."

"Quinn, I love you, and I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but I don't want this relationship to end. I'm not ready for it to end."

"I'm not in love with you anymore." Quinn said, choking back tears. They both sat in their respective places in silence.

* * *

"Oh my god, I missed this place," Santana said, shoveling a mouthful of her smoked salmon scramble into her mouth. As she chewed she spooned a mouthful of yogurt into Olivia's mouth. Brittany seemed to be enjoying her salad as much as Santana was enjoying her omelet, and she slipped some bacon to Lola, who was tied to her chair. It was unseasonably warm for November. They still the heating lamps out, but the sun was bright and the sky had a lovely, blue fall glow to it.

"It's been forever since we've been here, right?" Brittany said, looking at Santana.

"Since before these two," Santana confirmed. "It's how we should measure time now. Before Twins and After Twins. BT and AT." Brittany grinned.

"Oh no," Brittany said, trying to hide her head in her hair.

"What's wrong, Britt?" Santana asked, turning behind her to see an actor she'd met a few times during contract negotiations for his TV show. He caught Santana's gaze and came over, bringing the woman on his arm with him.

"Hello," Santana said with a smile, putting on her professional face, which happened to be very similar to her Cheerios face. She rifled through the rolodex of her brain to try and remember this guys name. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too, Santana. Hello, Brittany." Brittany looked up and nodded a shy hello.

"How do you know Brittany?" Santana said, her eyes narrowing in his direction.

"She choreographed the dances for the musical episode we did."

"You did a musical episode? I thought the show was something about crime? And doctors?"

"It is, but you know, everyone loves a good musical episode." Santana looked from her wife back to the actor, confused. "You two have a beautiful family," he said, kneeling down to pet Lola who cowered near Santana.

"Thank you. This is Nico," Santana said, gesturing to her son. "This is Olivia, and this is Lola."

"Well it's lovely to meet all of you. You really have a beautiful family," he said to Santana. "It was nice seeing you again, Brittany." The two walked off toward their table.

"What the fuck was that, Brittany?"

"I don't want to tell you, Santana, because it will only make you irrationally mad."

"I am perfectly capable to being rational."

"Not always."

"I'm thinking the worst here, Britt, so you really should just tell me."

"He hit on me. After a shoot. He asked me out and I told him I was married and showed him a picture of you and the twins. He recognized you from something, and panicked and begged me not to tell you. It was harmless, and I didn't want to upset you."

"I always knew that guy was a douchebag. Excuse me, Brittany, I'm just going to go have a word with him…" Santana stood throwing her napkin on the table.

"Santana. Sit down," Brittany said.

"But, Brittany, I…"

"Honey, I'm sure you are able to come up with some vicious insult to tear that man down right now, but it was an honest mistake and I would really like to just enjoy my breakfast."

"But—"

"Santana, please."

"If I'm still involved with contract negotiations for that _ridiculous_ show he's on, I'm gonna…what?" Santana said, raising her eyebrows at Brittany's smile.

"What are you going to do, honey?" Brittany said in her baby voice. Santana couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm going to use some well-thought out, caustic, legal language to make sure he doesn't get the salary he deserves."

"That sounds like the adult Santana I know and love."

"Or I might show him the razors in my hair. Who knows?" Santana asked, taking a big bite of her eggs. "This really just is delicious, isn't it?" She said, smiling over at Brittany.

* * *

Justin and Quinn still sat in their bedroom silently. Justin had held his head in his hands for the better part of an hour now and Quinn just stared out the window.

"This isn't really about my text messages or Rachel, is it, Quinn?" Justin said, finally breaking the silence.

"No, it isn't."

"What is it about, then?"

"It's about promises that we made to one another and never kept. Promises to be faithful, to support one another in our dreams and our missteps, to build a life together. Instead we have a built a life apart."

"It can change, Quinn. I can change," Justin said through tears.

"I want to believe that, I do, Justin. It's just, I've given you so many chances, so many ultimatums, and nothing ever changes."

"But, don't you remember when we were happy? It could go back to that."

"No, Justin, I don't." They sat in silence until it was time for him to leave. He picked up his bag and headed for the door of the room.

"Can you answer one last question for me?" Quinn nodded. "You and Rachel?"

"I…I have feelings for her Justin. It's not why we're not working though." Justin nodded and left the room. She heard him say goodbye to their daughters and the front door slam before she picked up the phone.

* * *

"Hey, Q. How's it going?" Santana asked, cheerily.

"It's been better, S. I need a lawyer."


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry about how long it took me to get this chapter up. I've been ridiculously busy lately, plus, this chapter ended up being so long it had to be divided into three separate parts, so I've been reworking a lot of stuff. The result? I'm not so sure how I feel about this chapter, but I didn't want to leave you hanging any longer so here it goes. I hope you enjoy! And thank you, thank you, thank you for all your reviews.

* * *

"Hey, Quinn, how's it going?" Santana said, cradling her phone between her shoulder and her ear so she could hold Olivia with her other arm.

"Santana, I know we're best friends and you're trying to be supportive of me, but your weird nice tone is really beginning to piss me off."

"I just recognize that you're going through a difficult period so I'm trying to be helpful as opposed to antagonistic."

"That's Dr. Phillips speak."

"I never should have given you my therapist's phone number." Santana paused for a moment. "Although I am happy you are getting the assistance you need to become a happy, well-adjusted adult."

"I miss my friend, her name's Santana Pierce-Lopez. She's kind of a bitch."

"I'm trying to be nice. And supportive, or whatever."

"It's creeping me out."

"Fine. You want your friend back? Here she is. What the fuck do you want right now, Q? I have a construction crew of fifteen banging on god knows what above my head, my children are being ten times more insane than normal, I'm pretty sure B has been spiking their Gerber's with crack, my dog has peed in the house twice, my lovely, lovely, wife found a stray kitten and it has now taken residence in my bedroom, and my mother won't stop breathing down my neck about Christmas."

"Just what I was calling you about. Have you booked your flight yet?"

"I'm working on it right now."

"I was wondering when you were going to be in Lima? Justin is coming in for Christmas day, to be with the girls, but I thought maybe we could coordinate our flights?"

"So that we could have a fun time in the airport with five kids instead of two?"

"I'll splurge for 1st class for everyone."

"You have to do better than that."

"Limo to the airport."

"I'm listening."

"Two nights babysitting, free of charge or trade."

"Four."

"Three."

"Done. We want to get into Lima on the 22nd and fly back to LA on the 29th."

"Thanks, Santana."

"Anytime, Q."

"Also, do you want to maybe get dinner sometime this week? Maybe B and Kurt could watch the kids?"

"I'd love to. How's Saturday?"

"Sounds great."

"Good. Now I gotz to go blow off some tension by yelling at the construction crew upstairs."

"Get it, girl." Quinn laughed, hanging up the phone.

* * *

Kurt was power walking down Robertson to get to Bel Bambini to shop for baby clothes with Mercedes. He had a latte in one hand and he adjusted his blue tooth with the other.

"Rach! How goes it, darling?"

"I'm tired," Rachel said, picking up her phone from her trailer. They were shooting on location in Pasadena, which meant that she was pretty much stuck inside her trailer or forced to face photographers outside. "My trailer smells funny." Kurt scrunched up his nose at the other end of the phone.

"Hold on, Brittany is buzzing in." Kurt quickly pushed a button on his iPhone. "Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, what can I do for you this afternoon?" Kurt asked.

"It's Brittany," Brittany replied. Kurt and Rachel simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"I know, Britt," Kurt said confused. "Also, Rachel is on the line."

"Hi, Rach!" Brittany replied, excitedly. "And you called me 'Mrs. Pierce-Lopez'. I wanted to make sure you knew I was on the phone, not Santana. We have the same name now. It's kind of confusing…"

"Hi, Brittany," Rachel said, laying down on the couch in her trailer.

"What's up, Britt?" Kurt asked.

"I wanted to see if you would want to come help me babysit Quinn's kids on Saturday?"

"Where's Santana going to be?" Kurt asked.

"Going out with Quinn."

"Why is Quinn going out?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," Brittany said, nervously.

"I'd be happy to, honey," Kurt replied.

"Did you want to come too, Rachel?" Brittany asked.

"No, I think it's better if I keep my distance from the Fabray-Scott clan for now," Rachel replied.

"Mercedes is buzzing in," Kurt said, quickly pushing a button on his phone. "Hey, Cedes."

"Where you at?" Mercedes asked, sharply. "I'm outside of Bel Bambini and you know I don't like to be kept waiting these days, Kurt. Plus, I'm starving."

"You're right by Real Food Daily, you should really eat there, I hear vegan is good for pregnancy." Rachel said.

"Rachel?" Mercedes asked.

"Do you want to babysit Quinn's kids with Kurt and me?" Brittany asked, interrupting.

"Hold up. Are we party-lining? As in we're 17 and Puck's having a party and we need to coordinate?" Mercedes asked.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention that…" Kurt replied.

"Also, I'm pretty sure vegan food is _not_ good for pregnancy, Rachel, and no, Brittany, I do not want to babysit Quinn's crazy kids with you. I've seen Santana's black eyes. Please." Mercedes said.

"Hold on, Santana's on the line," Brittany said. She juggled Nico on her hip and clicked a button on her phone. "Hey, San." Brittany said.

"Baby-bear, have you given any thought to babysitting the Fabray devils?" Santana asked.

"Baby-bear?" Kurt asked. "That is classic." Rachel snickered into the phone.

"I never get sick of a whipped Satan." Mercedes said.

"Gross, that just brought some weird, Dante's inferno, dungeon Santana being beaten by Brittany imagery into my mind." Rachel replied.

"Oh, I can totally see that," Kurt added, "Santana handcuffed to some damp dungeon wall by a collar and Brittany whipping her…"

"She would have to be gagged," Mercedes said. "Otherwise, you _know_ she wouldn't shut the fuck up."

"Britt! Are you on a party line?" Santana asked, incredulously.

"Yes, why?" Brittany asked.

"Baby, how many times have we talked about you giving me the heads up when you answer my call on a party line?"

"I don't know. How many times?" Brittany replied. Kurt began laughing again.

"Well, Santana, 'baby-bear' and I are more than happy to watch those Fabray devils for you." Kurt said.

"I would say thank you, Kurt, but I am too disgusted by where your sick minds all went just now."

"But, you've never had a problem with being cuffed, Santana." Brittany said. The other three broke out in laughter.

"I'm going back to work." Santana said, hanging up the phone.

"I just got to Cedes, Britt, I'll call you later in the week." Kurt said, linking arms with Mercedes outside of Bel Bambini.

"Sounds good! Bye, Mercedes, bye Kurtsie!"

"I should go too, Britt, but it was good talking to you."

"Bye, Rach!" Brittany hung up the phone. "Your aunties and uncles are so crazy, aren't they?" Brittany whispered to Nico, bobbing him up and down on her hip. "And your mami is going to be mad at me when she gets home." She kissed her son's head. "We just have to remind her that she's always been whipped."

* * *

"Mommy, will you fix my braids? Lily pulled them out." Hannah asked, running to her mother who was sitting on the couch in Brittany and Santana's house.

"Of course, come here," Quinn said, gesturing for Hannah to sit in front of her on the couch. She began to redo her daughter's hair. "What is taking Santana so long?" Quinn asked Brittany, who was distracted playing with the puppy. Kurt and Harper were playing peek-a-boo with the babies.

"You know how she is," Brittany replied.

"How am I?" Santana asked, entering the room with Lily.

"You're like a caterpillar." Everyone looked at Brittany confused, but she didn't look up from the puppy. "You're cute and soft, but you make predators afraid of you with your fake bristles, and it takes you three weeks to come out of your shell, but when you do you look hot."

"What?" Quinn asked.

"It just takes her a long time to get ready," Brittany said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, shrugging at Quinn. "But when she does, she's super beautiful." Santana gazed lovingly at Brittany the entire time. Quinn groaned.

"Let's get out of here." She said, patting Hannah's new braids and giving her a kiss on the head. "You girls be good for Aunt B and Uncle Kurt, okay?" They nodded. Santana kissed Nico and Olivia on the head, still holding Lily's hand.

"Thanks for helping me get ready, Bug," she said, tapping Lily on the nose. Lily smiled and nodded. Santana kissed Brittany on the lips. "I love you," she said. "We won't be out too late."

"I love you too, honey. Don't get into trouble." She placed another kiss on Santana's lips.

"Me and Quinn?" Santana asked. "Never," she smirked. Brittany rolled her eyes as the two women walked out the door.

"Who wants pizza?" Brittany asked as the door shut.

* * *

Santana tilted her head up to blow the smoke in her lungs into the air, instead of into the face of the person sitting across from her. Dinner with Quinn had turned into drinks, and two drinks had turned into five.

"This is bad, Q, this is like, really, really, bad," Santana said, giggling.

"What's bad?" Quinn asked, smiling back at Santana.

"We're like, grown-ups now. We should behave like grown-ups."

"We'll never be grown-ups. We'll always just be best friends…besties, besties," Quinn sang.

"I miss college," Santana replied.

"That's why I brought you here!" Quinn exclaimed. Quinn and Santana sat in the smoking lounge at Short Stop, Quinn's head on Santana's shoulder. They were surrounded by a bunch of kids in their twenties, and some guy had offered them a hit of his spliff, which they gladly took. Santana and Quinn, however, had not smoked weed since college, and they were both immediately high. "It's not that bad," Quinn said. "I mean, it's not illegal."

"True," Santana agreed. "I have babies!" Santana said, a little too loudly, looking at Quinn wide-eyed.

"So?" Quinn asked.

"You can't have babies _and _smoke weed."

"Brittany is at home with your babies and my babies, and you're out comforting your newly single friend. You're totally allowed to smoke weed and have babies in California."

"I love California," Santana sighed.

"Me too," Quinn said. "I'm so glad we came here, and came to college together, and that we're best friends. You're the best friend a girl could have."

"You too, Q. That rhymed. It's soul night. Let's get our dance on." At that, Santana led Quinn out of the smoking area and back onto the dance floor.

* * *

"They're evil, pure evil," Kurt said, after they finally got all three Fabray-Scott's into bed. "They're like…the bad seed, or the omen…or some other horror flick with angelic blonds who are actually the devil incarnate. We should shave their heads. I bet they all have birthmarks that read 666." Brittany looked confused.

"I think Quinn would get mad if we shaved her daughters' heads."

"Yeah, she'll get mad because the truth will finally be out. Yours aren't much better, Britt, but I would expect that of the children of Satan."

"My children are angels, thank you very much."

"You also think your wife is an angel, so I have to take your opinion with a grain of salt."

"I don't think I could get one grain of salt for you, Kurt, but I could bring you the shaker if you want?" Kurt smiled, appreciatively at Brittany. "Although if you're planning on putting it on that cut you have on your knee, I'd advise against it. They call it rubbing salt in a wound for a reason. It really hurts."

"Never mind, Britt. Think you could just get me a band-aid for this wound?" Brittany nodded and walked toward the bathroom.

"Thank you so much for coming over, Kurt, I really appreciate it." Brittany said, handing him a box of band-aids and some antiseptic.

"You know I always have your back, Britt," Kurt replied, lounging dramatically on the couch and gesturing for Brittany to mend his knee. "Now, you've been pretty mum about what's going on tonight, but I think you do owe me an explanation since I dodged not one, not two, but three…that's right, count them, three, Fabray-Devil elbows to the eye. And you know how I feel about my face."

"I promised not to tell anyone," Brittany replied, petting Lord Tubbington IV.

"Britt. My gorgeous face," Kurt replied, circling his face with his hands. "There had better be a good reason why your wife left you here with both your children and Quinn's children."

"You have to promise not to say anything to anyone."

"Obviously."

"Seriously, Kurt. Especially not Rachel."

"My lips are sealed."

"You swear?"

"Yes."

"Quinn left Justin." Kurt's mouth dropped open, and he silently rubbed his face. "Say something, please." Brittany said, looking at Kurt, nervously. "You look like you're about to combust."

"I, again, am left with no words. You lesbians have a way of leaving me speechless. What happened?" Kurt asked, grasping Brittany's hand in his own.

"I'm going to get us some wine. You'll need it. Plus, lord knows Q and Santana are going to be wasted when they get home, we might as well join in the fun."

* * *

Quinn couldn't exactly remember what had happened between the smoking patio and the dance floor, but she was enjoying swaying back and forth to some Jackson 5. It took her a moment to realize that she had no idea where Santana had gone. That was never a good sign. It took her less than three seconds to find her though—she just followed the sound of Spanish expletives. Santana was shoving some guy into the corner, her finger in his face.

"We're fucking _lesbians_, douchebag, you understand? Have you ever heard of a lesbian? It means that we do _not_ want to be hit on by your sorry ass. Even if we _were _straight I we wouldn't want to be hit on by you! Has anyone ever told you that you look like an overgrown ten-year-old? I didn't know they made Dodger's shirts at Casual Male XL!"

"You don't look like lesbians," the guy smirked at her, clearly not intimidated by her tiny frame screaming at him.

"I'm going to shove that stupid ass fedora so far up your ass that the next time you sneeze, tweed is going to come out, you dickhead," Santana fumed. Quinn smiled drunkenly at Santana's threat. She was always shoving something out of someone's tear ducts. "Q," she said, turning to see Quinn still swaying lightly to the music, "we're leaving to get home to our _wives_. Thanks for ruining our night, asshole." Santana grabbed Quinn's hand and led her out of the bar.

Quinn lay her head down in Santana's lap in the back of the cab on their way back from the bar.

"I'm not a lesbian, Santana," Quinn said, sleepily.

"I know, Q. I just wanted…I just wanted…that guy to stop…" Santana said, trying to hold back the tears she knew were filling up her eyes. She knew it was a lost cause. The tears slowly cascaded down her cheekbones. "I'm a lesbian, and no one fucking believes me, ever! And now you're in love with a girl, and I don't understand...I mean, I understand why you're in love with a girl. They're so pretty, and soft...and they smell good and they have pretty hair and boobs are just so much fun, but...Rachel? She's...she's...miniature. And you love her, and I love Brittany so _so_ much. I don't want men to hit on me anymore! I'm a lesbian, Q!"

"I know you are, Santana." Quinn said, lifting her head to stroke Santana's hair. "I know, it's going to be okay."

* * *

"So, Quinn and Justin aren't telling the kids until after Christmas, because it doesn't really make much of a difference since Justin is never home anyway. Justin is still coming to Lima for Christmas day, and they'll tell the kids in January. And Q has no idea what she's going to do about Rach. She totally loves her though." Brittany said, slurring her words. Her tolerance had gone down after so many months of not drinking and she was drunk. She was dancing to some classic Lady Gaga as she spoke.

"Wait. Britt. Quinn loves Rachel?" Kurt asked, also feeling the impact of the alcohol. He had his hands over his head as he gyrated back and forth.

"Definitely," Brittany replied.

"Rachel loves Quinn!" Kurt squealed. "This is adorable. Oh, lesbian romance gets me every time." Before Brittany could respond, Quinn walked through the door with Santana draped over her shoulder, quietly sobbing to herself.

"Brittany, baby," Santana said, catching Brittany's eye.

"Santana!" Brittany squealed, running and grabbing her drunk wife from Quinn. "You're drunk." Brittany said.

"So are you," Santana replied through sniffles.

"Are the kids okay?" Quinn asked, concerned by the large number of drunk adults who were supposed to be caretakers.

"Oh, they're fine," Kurt said. "They fell asleep hours ago. Although I must say, Ms. Quinn, for looking like such blond angels, your daughters are quite the handful.  
"You don't need to tell me," Quinn replied. Meanwhile, Brittany stroked Santana's hair.

"I'm a lesbian," Santana murmured into Brittany's shoulder. Kurt raised his eyebrow.

"I know you are, honey," Brittany replied, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Just cause I have a weave and I wear dresses doesn't mean I like men," Santana said, choking back another sob.

"I know. What do you say, we get you to bed and you show me how much you like women," Brittany said, causing Kurt to fake vomit.

"Ugh, I'm surrounded by lesbians."

"Kurt, do you mind sharing the guest room with Q?" Brittany asked.

"Of course not. Come on, Quinn. Let's let the ladies get their lesbian on." Quinn drunkenly nodded and Kurt led her to the guest room.

"I wish I was getting my lesbian on," Quinn mumbled as they walked through the door to guest room, causing Kurt to raise an eyebrow as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

"Shit! Shit!" Santana yelled as she woke up, glancing at her alarm clock. Brittany was gazing lovingly at Santana. "Britt! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"It's Sunday. Plus, why would I want to get my naked wife _out _of my bed?" Brittany asked. Santana glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, naked. Before she could say anything about it, Brittany rolled over so she was on top of Santana, their legs interlaced and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

"Woah, baby, not that I'm complaining, but what's going on?" Santana asked when they broke apart for air.

"Nothing," Brittany said as she trailed kisses down Santana's neck and collarbone. She grazed her fingers across Santana's breast as she kissed her, causing Santana to let out a small moan. "It's just last night was _so_ good, Santana," kissing her between every other word, "and I want more." Santana smirked. Even when she was drunk she was good. If only she could remember it. "I want you to prove to me again that you're a lesbian," Brittany said, kissing Santana hard on the lips again and pressing their bodies together.

"Shit, B, you're so wet already," Santana groaned out, feeling Brittany on her leg.

"Mmhmm," Brittany hummed against Santana's lips. "All for you," she whispered. Santana let out another guttural moan into Brittany's lips, pulling her closer to her. As if on cue, the babies began crying into the monitor.

"Dammit," Santana groaned. "Dammit, dammit, fuck, shit." She pressed her palm to her forehead as Brittany rolled off of her and wrapped her robe around her body.

"I'll get them, Santana. You're probably going to be a little sore." Brittany said, leaving the room. Santana furrowed her brow in confusion. What had they done last night?

* * *

"Hello?" Kurt croaked into his phone.

"Whoa. I take it that you went out last night." Rachel replied.

"I babysat the Fabray's," Kurt said, simply.

"I guess that explains why you sound like you've been hit by a truck. Those girls...well, let's just say, they have an..._energy_...to them that may need to be tamed."

"Trust me. I know. Brittany and I needed a little…libation…to unwind after we got the girls to bed. I think I finally may understand what Malcolm X meant when he talked about 'blue eyed devils'."

"I think that might be racist, Kurt," Rachel replied.

"I'm too hungover to be racist."

"So, I take it you're not going to be able to make it to breakfast this morning?"

"Who are you talking to?" Quinn interrupted. "It's _so_ early. The sun is _so _bright."

"You're with Quinn." Rachel said, matter-of-fact.

"We stayed at Brittany and Santana's." The phone call was interrupted by the door swinging open and the three blonds in question pouncing on the bed.

"Aunty B is making breakfast!" Harper said snuggling into her mother. "Wake up!"

"It's going to be good," Hannah added, "Aunt B is in a _good_ mood, know what I mean?" Hannah said knowingly.

"No, Hannah, I'm not sure what you mean…" Kurt replied, fairly certain she didn't mean what he thought she meant.

"Woah. Mom." Hannah said. "Uncle Kurt doesn't know about doing it?"  
"What?" Kurt asked in shock.

"Let's just let it go," Quinn replied, too tired and hungover to deal with it.

"Who are you talking to?" Hannah asked Kurt.

"Rachel," Kurt replied.

"Rachel!" Hannah screamed into the phone. "Please come for breakfast! Aunt B promised we could go to the park and we haven't you in forever!"

"I would, sweetheart, but Aunt B didn't invite me for breakfast."

"AUNT B!" Hannah screamed. Quinn threw her pillow over her head.

"HANNAH!" Brittany screamed back.

"CAN RACHEL COME TO BREAKFAST?"

"IF IT'S OKAY WITH YOUR MOTHER." Hannah looked at her mother pleadingly. Quinn nodded. "Aunt B and mommy said it's okay. Please come?"

"Okay," Rachel replied. "See you soon."

"Where's Lily?" Quinn asked.

"With Aunt S. Getting their hair did or something." Harper shrugged. "Aunt S keeps saying 'nails done, hair done, everything did,' but I don't know what it means."

"Tell me they're still in the house, Hannah," Quinn said. She didn't want to know what Santana would have done to her child's hair if they made it to a salon.

"They're just in the bathroom, mom! God, you worry too much," Hannah said, storming out of the room.

"I think you worry the right amount, mommy," Harper said, snuggling closer to Quinn.

"Thank you, baby. Now, let's get a little more sleep before we have some of Aunt B's delicious 'I was doing it all night' breakfast, okay?" Kurt raised his eyebrow again, but decided to let it go when he saw Quinn shut her eyes with Harper curled up on her chest.

* * *

Rachel had the unfortunate habit of talking to herself in her car. As a result, she always wore her Bluetooth so that she could point to it when people in other cars were giving her strange looks. Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't really clear on how one even used a Bluetooth.

"Maybe I'll have Santana teach me," Rachel said out loud to herself. She pulled on to Brittany and Quinn's street. "This is going to be fine," Rachel said, "just because Quinn and I had a little fling does not mean that I have to be ostracized from the few people I know in LA and from friends that I've had for fifteen years. Fifteen years! Practically every male in Glee had to move past their flings with Quinn, and if they can do it, I can do it too. Of course, arguably, Quinn is closer to Brittany and Santana than I am, but that doesn't mean that we all can't learn to get along. This will be fine, Rachel Berry." Rachel stopped speaking when she opened the door to her car. She took a deep breath before ringing Brittany and Santana's doorbell.

* * *

"You're almost as tall as I am, Harper, I don't think I'm going to be able to carry you around for much longer," Rachel said to Harper as they stood in Brittany and Santana's kitchen.

"Well, you are a hobbit," Santana pointed out as she poured more batter into the waffle maker. Santana walked over to the refrigerator.

"Why are you walking funny?" Rachel asked. Santana glared at her. Brittany smirked and placed a kiss on Santana's cheek. Santana smiled into the kiss.

"Ignore her, honey," Brittany said.

"They did it." Hannah and Lily said simultaneously, followed by a fit of giggles and a high five. Kurt raised his eyebrow.

"Do not ask," Santana said, raising her hand at Kurt before he could speak.

"At least your ravenous sex life makes my daughters actually get along for once." Quinn said, looking up from the game of peek-a-boo she was playing with Olivia.

"Seriously, Santana, I'm concerned. You're walking like a duck," Rachel said.

"I'm okay with that," Brittany replied. "Well, team, breakfast is almost done, shall we eat in or out?"

"Well, we all know Santana's preference," Kurt said, causing the rest of the adults, minus Santana, to burst into laughter. Hannah and Lily looked up confused, always aware of when they were not part of the joke.

"I think we should eat inside," Brittany said, trying to diffuse the tension she could see building in Santana.

"Because you had enough of the alternative last night?" Kurt asked.

"Enough!" Quinn said. "There are children in the room! Let's just go have a nice, pleasant breakfast in the dining room."

* * *

"Do you think they're talking about something when they babble in the back of the car like that?" Brittany asked Santana, looking over her shoulder at the twins "talking" in this car seats as they drove to Griffith Park. Hannah, Harper, and Lily had talked everyone into spending the day together.

"I'd like to think so," Santana said. "I think they gossip. 'Nico, how awkward were Quinn and Rachel at breakfast?' 'I know, Olivia, it's totally gross, I don't know what Quinn sees in that midget!'" Brittany frowned.

"I don't hear all of that…but they're right. Breakfast was super awkward. I don't think they spoke three words to one another."

"Yeah, and I really don't think Rachel cares that much about the logistics of having a Design-build firm do renovations on our house."

"I hope they figure it out." Brittany said, sadly.

"I just hope they don't kill one another today."

Once at the park, Quinn, Brittany, and Kurt took the babies and Harper to the zoo, and Santana and Rachel played soccer with Lily and Hannah. It wasn't long before they reconvened to eat the picnic lunch they had packed.

"Aunty S, can we _please_ go on the trains. _Please, please, please_." Hannah asked.

"You have to ask your mother," Santana said.

"I _did_ ask my mother, and she said 'you know how I feel about riding on those ridiculous little trains, Hannah. If you must go so badly, ask your Aunt Santana.'"

"Great, so I can look ridiculous on those little trains?"

"You look pretty no matter what!" Lily chimed in. Quinn smirked, and picked up a napkin to wipe the grape juice stains from around Harper's mouth.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, little girl." Santana replied.

"But…Aunt B told me that's all I had to say to get you on the train."

"Great. I'm surrounded by blonds conspiring against me. Let's go." She said to four squealing blonds. "But Kurt, you're coming too." Santana handed the babies over to Rachel and Quinn. "You two going to be okay?" Santana asked, pointedly. They both nodded. Santana grasped Lily's hand in her own and the three of them headed off toward the trains.

"The babies have really grown, haven't they?" Rachel asked Quinn, finally breaking the tension. Quinn nodded.

"I don't even know if we can call them babies anymore. I think they may officially be toddlers!" Rachel nodded, bobbing Nico on one knee and eating a bite of salad with her free hand. "So, how are things being back in LA?" Quinn asked.

"It's nice. I didn't expect to miss it."

"This city can certainly grow on you," Quinn said. "How is the new movie going?"

"It's fine. It's more strenuous than I expected. You know, you watch those action movies, and the star is running for five seconds and it never occurs to you that it took thirty-seven takes to get it right and that they've probably been shooting for twelve hours. I have a new respect for Puck."

"I guess that's the magic of the movies." Quinn replied. "Plus, you're in great shape, Rachel, it can't be that bad," Quinn added. Rachel tried desperately to conceal the blush crawling up her skin.

"So, how are the kids?" Rachel asked, changing the subject. Quinn grinned.

"They're doing really, really well, actually. Hannah has gotten really involved in the school play, and Lily finally gave up dance and really seems to be enjoying her guitar lessons. Harper is struggling a little in school, but that's not surprising. She's my little space cadet," Quinn said, glancing briefly over at Rachel. "They're happy though, happier lately than they've been in awhile, so that's what's important." Rachel nodded.

"How's Justin?" Rachel asked, purposefully keeping her voice cool and professional.

"I guess he's fine." Quinn said, nervously. "I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving, but he's going to come to Lima on Christmas Day." Rachel had matured since High School. She had learned about that filter other people talked about and how sometimes it was better to not say anything at all. She had learned to keep her mouth shut and to keep her emotions inside until it was appropriate to let them come flooding out of her. She was still Rachel Berry, though, and all of that maturing wasn't foolproof.

"Well, I suppose if that is how you want to live your life then who am I to judge you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Quinn asked.

"I think you know exactly what it is supposed to mean. You resigned yourself when you were seventeen-years-old to living a life of unhappiness as long as you had a man and money to show for it. It really was a self-fulfilling prophecy. You're a talented writer, Quinn, everyone knows that. You could go out there and make it without your fancy, football player husband supporting you. However, it's obvious that you'd rather be the Beverly Hills housewife than make anything of yourself and you seem completely content allowing him to control you while contributing nothing to the relationship." Rachel said in one breath. "Not that it's really any of my business."

"No, Rachel, it's not any of your business. It stopped being your business the minute you left for New York without giving me a chance to think, or speak, or understand what was going on between us."

"So _now_ you'll acknowledge that there's an us. Or that there was an us. Or whatever is was that we were. When it's safe to do so again, far away from being forced to make any hard decisions about your life."

"You don't know anything about what's been going on with me, Rachel! You don't know anything about who I am, about how I was raised, or about how difficult this all is for me."

"I _wanted_ to know all of those things! I wanted you to let me in! It's not my fault you're a closed off ice queen who is so afraid of feeling anything that you'd rather rot in your unhappiness for the rest of your life." Both women sat stock still, shocked by Rachel's outburst.

"You don't know anything about me, Rachel. I _tried _to let you in. I _did _let you in, more than anyone else I've ever known. It wasn't enough for you. It will never be enough for you."

"I'm sorry, Quinn, that I'm unwilling to settle for someone who isn't willing to be with me 100%."

"I'm sorry too." They returned to their awkward silence, other than the occasional mews from the twins. Quinn lifted her head as she heard the familiar giggles of her daughters' in the distance. "Justin and I are getting divorced, Rachel." Quinn said.

"What?" Rachel's eyes shot up, connecting with Quinn's for the briefest of seconds.

"Mom! The trains were _awesome_! You should have come with us!" Lily yelled, bounding toward her mother.

"I don't think Aunt S had fun though," Hannah said, glancing over at Santana, whose limp had worsened from soccer and the awkward position she had to sit in on those small trains. Santana just glared off into space until Brittany wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. It took them a moment to notice the look of shock on Rachel's face.

"Everything okay, guys?" Santana asked, taking her son from Rachel. Quinn nodded furiously.

"Great! We had fun!"

* * *

"Do you want to go get drinks at the Abbey?" Rachel asked as she and Kurt approached their cars.

"You know that's not a real question, Rachel," Kurt replied. "I'll see you there in twenty minutes."

* * *

Quinn tucked Hannah in after reading her a chapter of Little Women. She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead and then tiptoed out of the room, making sure that the nightlight was on before she left. She knew Hannah would never admit to being afraid of the dark, but if Quinn didn't plug the nightlight in before she left, she would always find the lights on in the morning. She went to the office and checked her email for unpleasant information concerning the division of assets. When she was finished, she opened Word on her computer, and, as she had down for the last couple months, she began to write.

* * *

"Quinn and Justin are getting divorced." Rachel said, idly spinning the straw in her Greyhound.

"I know," Kurt replied.

"You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"First of all, I found out last night. Second of all, it doesn't change anything. Quinn is still Quinn, Rachel. You've told me that yourself. She's emotionally damaged."

"Maybe she's working on it. This is a step, right?"

"There's a tall blond in the bathroom line who has been eyeing you for the last 5 minutes. I suggest you head over there, pretend you have to pee, and attempt to forge a relationship, even just for one night, with someone who has an emotional capacity higher than a sixteen-year-old. I'll be off with those biceps," Kurt said, nodding toward a man at the bar, "if you need to find me." He clutched Rachel's hand briefly and walked away.

* * *

Santana leaned in the doorway of the nursery watching Nico and Olivia sleep. She was entranced by her children's little backs slowly heaving up and down and the smell of lavender and baby powder that filled the room. Sometimes she couldn't believe that Brittany had brought these two little lives into the world, and the thought of it left her overwhelmed. Even though they were still babies, the bedrooms upstairs were making her preemptively nostalgic for infants. She didn't even hear Brittany sneak up behind her, resting her head on Santana's shoulder.

"You're thinking again," Brittany said, kissing Santana's cheek.

"They're beautiful. Thank you, B."

"Thank you, Santana. You're thinking about more than that though. Our children are always beautiful, obviously, look at their parents." Santana turned, smirking at Brittany, and shutting the door to the nursery until it was nearly closed, and leading Brittany to their bedroom.

"Quinn and Rachel are exhausting." Santana finally said. Brittany nodded. They had changed out of their clothes and into oversized t-shirts and were laying in their bed, legs mixing together and their noses grazing.

"They even exhausted our little monsters." Brittany said.

"Our little angels, you mean." Santana argued. Brittany laughed out loud at this. "Do you think they'll ever get it together, Britt?" Santana asked.

"I don't know." Brittany brushed a hair out of Santana's face and took in her eyes. She was always in awe of how wide her eyes would get when Santana was worried or sad or unreasonably unhappy. She suspected it was a look that most people hadn't had the opportunity to experience. There was nothing more beautiful than Santana's eyes searching for answers, searching for understanding. Brittany knew she'd spend the rest of her life helping her find it. Brittany stroked Santana's cheekbone, gently cupping her face with her hand. "If you asked me ten years ago, I would have told you that they would figure it out. They love one another. They compliment one another. They have that very rare balance of romantic love and functional love."

"What does that mean, B?" Santana asked.

"Well, some people have romantic love. Like…Rachel and Finn in high school. They were in love with one another, but they didn't share the same goals or interests or values, so ultimately it was doomed. Love, on its own, can only take a couple so far. Finn would never be able to live this lifestyle with Rachel and vice-versa. Quinn and Finn were the opposite in high school. They shared the same interests and goals, and they could have paid the bills and organized activities for their children and talked about the same TV shows, but they didn't love one another. Not in that romantic, passionate way. Ten years ago, I would have assumed that anyone who found both kinds in one person was destined to hold on to them. I don't know if I think that anymore."

"Why not, B?" Santana asked, the worry apparent in her raised eyebrows. Brittany giggled.

"Not about us, Tana." Santana smiled at Brittany's childhood nickname for her. "I realize that what we have is rare. We worked for this and we had luck on our side. We're _lucky_, just so unbelievably lucky to have found one another, fallen in love with one another, and to have dealt with all of the other stuff life throws at you and still be together. It's rare. Most people don't ever have what we have. I think it's harder, the older we get, to look past all this other _life_ stuff, and baggage, and bad decisions and insecurities to really have a relationship with someone, and that's _if_ you even find someone at all. So…I don't know what will happen with Quinn and Rachel. But, I hope that one day, they are happy." Brittany yawned. "That's the best we can do, right now, honey."

"You are the smartest person I know." Santana said, bringing Brittany's lips to her own for a quick but loving kiss.

"You're the hottest," Brittany smirked. Santana giggled. Brittany leaned in for another small kiss.

"I love you, Brittany."

"I love you too, Santana." They kissed slowly and softly until they both fell asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note:** Thank you to anyone who is still reading! I am so sorry for the delay in updates, I've been in housing crisis mode, but I found a place and I'll have internet as of Thursday, and there will be consistent updates after that. I hope you enjoy this little tidbit I could give you from my friend's house in the meantime!

* * *

Fuck Ohio. Fuck, fuck, fuck Ohio, Santana thought to herself. She scowled as the automatic doors swung open again, resulting in a gust of cold wind. She was wearing her "winter" jacket, forgetting, yet again, that her LA winter jacket wasn't going to suffice for December in Ohio. She pulled the hat on Olivia tighter around her ears, mentally thanking herself for being over prepared for the cold when it came to her children. She scowled again as she glanced over at Quinn who was currently on the other side of the conveyor belt, directing the porter as to which bags belonged to her family. Quinn was calmly directing her daughters as they donned their winter gear, helping one another with gloves and scarves and hats, all exotic items of clothing for them. Santana, on the other hand, was juggling a fussy Olivia in one arm, who had, yet again, demonstrated her dislike of flying, and had yet to stop squirming and squealing. Meanwhile, her one free arm was attempting to drag an overstuffed bag off the conveyor belt. Why did the conveyor belts have to move so quickly?

"Fuck Ohio," Santana whispered under her breath.

"Ooh, I heard that, Aunt S," Lily said, peaking her head out from behind Santana's legs. Santana rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long trip, and they hadn't even left the airport yet.

"Britt, do you think you could give me hand?" Santana began to say, seeing Brittany exit the bathroom after changing Nico. Brittany's eyes were wide, though, and before Santana could register what was going on Brittany was jogging across the airport.

"Mom!" Brittany squealed. "You didn't have to pick us up at the airport!" The two blondes hugged tightly.

"I just couldn't wait a second longer to see my grandbabies," Caroline said, taking a nervous looking Nico from Brittany. Santana returned to struggling with her daughter, her bag, and Lily clinging to her knee. She was surprised when Mr. Pierce appeared at her side.

"Let me help you with that, Santana," Mitchell said, taking a suitcase from Santana's hand. He placed the heavy bag on the ground, and gave Santana a light kiss on the cheek. "I see my Brittany has overpacked, as usual."

"Of course she did," Santana smiled. "It's good to see you, Mitchell," Santana said.

"It's always good to see you, Santana. And this must be little Olivia! She's gotten so much bigger since we last saw them!" He gently touched the soft blond hair on his granddaughter's head. He noticed another blond looking up at him from behind Santana's leg. "Well, if it isn't a little Fabray. Let me guess…you must be…Hannah?" Mitchell asked, his voice teasing. Lily huffed and crossed her arms, venturing slightly in front of Santana.

"You know me, Grape. I'm Lily. That's Hannah!" Lily said, pointing dramatically to where Hannah, Harper, Quinn and the limo driver stood. Mitchell smiled at the name. Try as they might, no one could ever get Hannah to understand the word great-uncle or great aunt, so he and his wife would forever be known as Grape and Bimsie to the Fabray children.

"There's no way you can be Lily! You're way too big!" Mitchell said, mocking shock.

"I'm seven now! I'm in the first grade! Bimsie, Grape doesn't remember me!" Lily huffed to Caroline.

"Oh, he's an old man, I'm surprised her remembers to screw his head on in the morning," she explained, crouching down to give Lily a hug. She then pulled Santana into a tight hug while her husband gathered the girls' luggage. "Santana, it's wonderful to see you."

"You too, Caroline." Santana said, still wrapped up in her mother-in-law's hug.

"Is my Brittany taking care of you? You look so thin!" Caroline said, pulling away.

"Brittany tells me that everyday," Santana replied smiling. "I just do too much yoga."

"And you work too hard," Brittany added. Santana rolled her eyes, but Caroline didn't notice, having moved on to her granddaughter.

"And this must be Olivia, she's grown so much!"

"We really need to get down to the southland more often," Mitchell mused, eyeing his growing grandchildren.

"You certainly do," Quinn interjected, arriving out of nowhere with Hannah and Harper in hand. She hugged Mitchell and Caroline

"Oh, Quinnie, it's so good to see you!" Caroline said. "The girls are getting so big!" She crouched down to pull Hannah and Harper into a hug.

"Grape doesn't remember me," Lily huffed silently as Mitchell hugged Harper and Hannah. Santana ruffled her hair, earning a small smile by the pouting, miniature Quinn.

"Do you need a ride home from the airport?" Mitchell asked. Quinn shook her head, pointing over to the silent limo driver.

"Let's make plans sometime while we're all in town, okay?" Quinn asked. Mitchell and Caroline nodded as Quinn and the girls walked away to a chorus of "bye, Bimsie and Grape!" Mitchell picked up half of the bags and Santana picked up the other half and followed Brittany and Caroline out of the airport.

* * *

"Are you excited to see Grandma?" Quinn asked, leaning into the window of the limo to tip the driver. Her three daughters nodded glumly. "Come on," Quinn said, "you know she'll probably have some of her famous Peppermint Bark ready for you!"

"I love peppermint bark," Harper said, simply. "We should buy a peppermint tree so that we can have peppermint bark all the time, mommy." Quinn smiled at her daughter's logic. Her youngest certainly took after Brittany's way of thinking. The blond foursome made their way up the path to the Fabray home, the home Quinn had grown up in, and to her mother. Quinn nervously rang the doorbell. A moment later a flushed and excited looking Judy opened the door.

"Quinnie," she said, breathlessly, pulling her daughter in for a hug.

"Hi, mom," Quinn said.

"And my little angels!" Judy exclaimed, pulling the three girls tightly to her.

"Grandma, I can't breathe!" Hannah finally exclaimed, after Judy held them there for what felt like forever. Quinn laughed.

"Relax, mom, you'll have them for a whole week," Quinn said as her mother released her daughters. Immediately upon release, Lily grabbed Harper's stuffed bear from her arms and dropped her skateboard on the ground, taking off down the hall on it, followed by a crying Harper and a screaming Lily. All noise stopped when a crash thundered from the living room. "Aren't you excited, mom?" Quinn asked. Judy gave her daughter a knowing nod, and helped her bring the bags into the house.

* * *

"Leroy! LEROY!" Hiram yelled from the foyer of the Berry household. "Our diva has returned to Ohio!"

"I am _mad_ at you, young lady," Leroy boomed as he entered the foyer. Rachel looked at her father, curiously. "You don't call, you don't write! Rachel Berry, the big movie star, no longer has time for her old dads. Need I remind you of who put you in dance classes at the tender age of three? Beauty pageants, voice lessons, acting lessons…"

"Daddy, daddy," Rachel said, pulling her father in for a hug, "I've just been busy, but I will never be too busy for my dads. My very young, and fit dads, might I add."

"Oh, don't try and butter me up, darling. You have some explaining to do," Leroy said as he led his daughter into their house, his arm around her shoulder and Hiram following behind, rolling his eyes as he dragged in her luggage.

* * *

"The prodigal child returns to the nest…"Gracie said sarcastically as she and Santana carried their luggage up the stairs of the Pierce household.

"You were such a cute little girl…it's a surprise you turned out so…sarcastic," Santana replied, handing one of their bags to Gracie.

"Overexposure to you, I suppose," Gracie replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Santana followed Grace upstairs with their bags.

"God, it still kills me that this room looks exactly the same as it did when we were in high school," Santana said, setting their bags down at the foot of Brittany's old bed, complete with notches and all.

"I told you. It's a fucking shrine to the perfect Britt-Britt."

"Geez, Gracie, jealous much? What's going on with you?"

"Nothing,' Grace said, throwing herself down on Brittany's bed.

"Liar. Since when do you have issues with Brittany?" Santana asked.

"All my life." Gracie replied, dramatically. Santana leaned back on Brittany's desk, her eyebrows raised.

"Bitch, please," Santana said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "You may be able to pull this inferior younger sister bullshit with some nameless in-law, Gracie, but I was there the day you were born. You're the adored youngest child and you have idolized Britt all your life. And me, apparently, if I take your attitude problems into account." Gracie rolled her eyes.

"Fine, it's not about Britt," Gracie admitted. "It's mom and dad. They're are on my back about my major and my life choices and my future and my career. Blah blah blah. And ever since I've been home from school all I've heard about is the genius Alexis who's bringing her scientist boyfriend home, and Brittany, the successful choreographer and her rockstar-lawyer wife, and their two beautiful children." It took all of Santana's willpower not to smirk, She and Brittany were awesome. Everyone knew that.

"Your parents will get over it." Santana said, simply.

"Yeah, right," Grace said, rolling her eyes.

"C'mon, Gracie. Do you not remember your prodigal sister, the golden child, as you call her, happens to be married to a woman? We weren't so popular around this neck of the woods some fifteen years ago."

"I have no recollection of that."

"Well, you'll just have to trust me then. When Britt decided she was not going to college and move to LA with her bitchy _girlfriend_ to be a _dancer_, nobody was throwing her any parades."

"And look at her now."

"Exactly. Look at her now. They'll get over it, kid. You'll figure out what you want to do, and find a great guy…or gal…"

"God, Santana, everyone's not gay!"  
"I didn't say you were gay! You and your roommate seemed awfully close though…" Santana said, smirking.  
"Santana!"

"Sorry! All I'm saying is that everyone has this period of…finding themselves, I guess, in their mid-twenties. By the time you're an old-hag like me, I'm sure you'll have it figured out."

"Thanks, Tana," Gracie said, with a shy smile. Santana just shrugged as Grace rose from the bed. Santana wrapped her arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the room.

"You really should come visit more often," Santana said. "Auntie Tana is full of advice."

"You're my sister-in-law, not my aunt," Grace pointed out.  
"Semantics," Santana said, with a wave of her hand. "Now, tell me what else is going on in your life?" She asked as they walked down the stairs.

* * *

Quinn quietly shut the door behind the room Harper and Lily were staying in. They thought the house was creepy and insisted that she read _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ three times before they would even consider shutting their eyes and attempting to sleep. She wasn't sure she blamed them. This big, empty house was a little bit creepy at night. Hannah, on the other hand, refused to share a room with her sisters and was sleeping in the guest room down the hall. She knew Hannah was going to be a firecracker by the time she reached middle school. She made a mental note to make sure she had the sex talk early with that one.

"Come, sit, Quinnie," her mother called to her from the dining room. They were both still dressed a little formally, considering that it was only the two of them in a mostly empty house in Lima, Ohio, but that was how her mother did it. Her face was always put on, her pearls always perfectly in place around her collarbone. Quinn sighed heavily as she took a seat at the table.

"So, tell me what's going on with this husband of yours. You've been so evasive with me on the phone, Quinnie, and you know you can talk to me about anything." Judy said after the silence seemed to have extended for far too long. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"No, thanks," Quinn said, somewhat bitterly. Her mother swirled her glass of wine absentmindedly around the glass at the big dining room table her mother never got rid of, despite its uselessness in the house. "We're getting divorced." Judy raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by this revelation.

"Well…that's certainly not what I expected." Judy said, swirling the wine in her glass around. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, I don't know, mom," Quinn said, glaring at Judy. "Perhaps it's related to the fact that I only see him maybe, if I'm lucky, two months out of the year. Or that he's blatantly been cheating on me for around a decade. Or that he contributes nothing to the family outside of his paycheck, which, while it is a very lovely bonus, I don't want to be paid to raise someone's children."

"Quinnie, I don't understand why you're jumping down _my _throat about this. I haven't said anything to suggest that you shouldn't leave Justin. I simply asked why, since you haven't talked to me about it at all." Quinn looked at her mother with a mix of annoyance and sadness. There really was no reason for her to take this out on her mother.

"I'm sorry, mom. I just…I don't know…" Quinn tried to visualize herself in Dr. Phillips' office, visualize Dr. Phillips asking her what she would want to say to her mother. "I guess I just assumed that you'd want me to stay with Justin regardless, because, you know, he supports me and it's what a good wife is supposed to do."

"I didn't do that, Quinnie," Judy pointed out. "I left your father." Quinn reached her hand out to her mother's and held it sympathetically.

"I know, mom. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and Justin," Judy said, smiling sadly at her daughter.

"It's okay."

"So, have you broken the news to the girls yet?" Judy asked, squeezing Quinn's hand. Quinn shook her head.

"We're going to wait until after the holidays to do it."

"That's probably for the best," Judy said. Judy eyed her daughter silently for a long time. "There's something else, isn't there, Quinn?" Judy said finally, raising a knowing eyebrow at her daughter.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem different…relaxed…or maybe it's content?"

"It's been an interesting year," Quinn said, simply. They sat in silence for a bit longer as Judy tried to figure out what was different with her daughter. "Do you still want to have dinner at the Pierce's tomorrow night?" Quinn asked, finally breaking the silence. Her mother nodded. "Okay, then I'm off to bed." Quinn placed a light kiss on her mother's head and walked upstairs.

* * *

"Rachel Berry, you've told us everything we possibly could ever want to know about your exciting, movie star life in LA, and you've told us nothing about your personal life!"

"You know, daddy, I work twelve hour days! Who has time for a personal life?"

"The Rachel I know _always _has time for a personal life. You're holding back. There must be a special guy or girl you've been seeing."

"I'm not holding back, daddy. Can we just let it go?" Rachel asked, nervously sipping her wine. Hiram raised his eyebrows at Leroy, but they complied with their only child's request and began discussing the numerous options for vegan food in Los Angeles.

Hiram absentmindedly flipped through the pages of the magazine he was reading in bed while Leroy brushed his teeth in the next room.

"She's lying, you know," Hiram yelled to Leroy.

"Who's lying?" Leroy asked, poking his head out of the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth,

"Our daughter, who else?"

"Now, just what is she lying about?"

"About not seeing anyone."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She has that same, determined look she had when she was in love with the Hudson boy in High School but he was dating that girl, you know, the one that was in glee club with her? Who got pregnant?"

"Yeah, I know!" Leroy finally yelled from the bathroom.

"It's the look she had when Jack broke up with her, the first time, in college."

"She's an adult now, though."

"Her face hasn't changed a bit. You'll see honey," Hiram said as Leroy crawled into bed in a striped pajama set, "you'll see. She's dating someone. And they're special."

"You're just a silly old romantic." Leroy said, giving Hiram a chaste kiss.

"_Your_ silly old romantic."

* * *

Rachel could hear her fathers' light chatter upstairs and smiled to herself at how some things really never changed in the Berry household. They were probably gossiping about her lack of love life. She wasn't tired yet, her body was still on West Coast time, so she tried watching some late night TV, but this time of year it was all holiday movies about love and family, so she had turned it off right away. Rachel could never quite put her finger on the emotion that she felt when she visited her fathers. In college, returning home was always so simple, but she felt more out of place the older she grew. It was the difference between the phrase 'going home' and 'going to visit her parents'. She went to visit her parents now. The soothing murmurs of her fathers as they talked before bed is the same as she remembers it when she was five, but they moved the cutlery to a new drawer. The placement of the family portrait when Rachel was twelve still hung above the fireplace, but there was new furniture in front of it. The line of photographs of dance recitals and school plays and glee club performances never moved, but she'd be damned if she could find a plate in the kitchen, and when she finally did, they weren't the same plates she'd eaten on all her life. Those plates had been given to Goodwill when she was 26 and her fathers' found themselves without a child to support and a little bit of expendable income. She looked at each of those pictures lined up in their hallway, running her finger along the smooth glass of the frames. Her parents really had done everything they could to make sure she made it to the place she was today. She was a born performer. A bred performer, perhaps. All the pictures of her lined up perfectly to create the Rachel Berry who stood here in her old house in Lima, Ohio and could see where she came from. She walked over to the bookshelf and found the photo album she was looking for, and took a seat at the dining room table, still dimly lit with four Hannukah candles her fathers had forgotten to put out. Maybe they assumed that she would put them out when she went to bed. She was an adult, after all. The albums were still all of her…let's be honest, Rachel Berry was a cute kid whether she was performing or not. These pictures were different though. Rachel and Leroy in Ocean City, Maryland. Rachel was four and had her hands proudly across her chest as her dad grinned and they showed off her sand castle. It was the first time she had ever seen the ocean. Her dads looking nervous as their held her hands on the first day of Kindergarten, Rachel's grin nearly to her ears as she thinks about her Wizard of Oz lunchbox and all the new friends she was going to make. She skips forward to her first day of High School, and now her dads are wearing the proud faces, and even though Rachel has her performance smile on, she knows she's just terrified. These kids tortured her in elementary school and they tortured her in middle school and there's no reason to think they'll suddenly change their minds now that they're a year older. She's wearing an outfit very similar to the one she wore for her first day of Kindergarten, and she can't help but laugh out loud and understand why she was teased so much as a teenager. She knows that somewhere, in the distance, out of the camera's frame but in her fourteen-year-old eye line, Brittany, Santana and Quinn are laughing at her. They're not in their Cheerios' uniforms just yet, but they've always understood social currency, and Rachel never has. She doesn't understand it, and she doesn't understand them. She knows that at 14, she let her eyes move from the camera lens over to the girls smirking at her and tried desperately to understand them. Yes, Quinn was pretty, but she had only been in their district a year and she didn't understand everyone else's fascination with her. Santana was pretty too, but she was mean, and she was constantly hurting everyone's feelings. When Santana wasn't hurting someone's feelings, and when she thought no one was looking, she just looked sad. Santana watched the way Quinn interacted with the boys in their class, absorbing the information and mimicking it. Rachel often wondered how someone so sad could be so popular. Rachel knew show faces, and she knew that Santana's eyes were empty nearly all of the time. And Brittany…well Brittany just had no idea what she was doing. Rachel was pretty sure Brittany was the dumbest person she had ever met. Yet, these were the girls who were going to make her life miserable for the next four years. She watched them laugh, and Santana quietly slip some Gummy Bears over to Brittany, and the camera snapped before she could make eye contact with it again. She had her smile on but she was looking off in the distance. Rachel shook her head at the memory, smiling softly to herself. At least it all made sense now. She skips forward through countless school plays and Hanukkah's and Passover's and glee club performances and community theater shows and dance recitals and birthdays and proms until she settles upon the Glee Clubs win at Nationals in 2012. She's seen some version of this picture at everyone's house, taken by various different parents and friends, in different milliseconds and from different angles. She's grinning at the camera, in the center of the group, her show choir face still on. Quinn is smiling, clasping her hands together, in the corner of the frame. Mercedes is in Artie's lap, and gripping Sam's hand tightly, Karofsky is hugging Sam from behind with his head upon Sam's shoulder. Mike and Tina are mid-jump hug and Puck has grabbed Lauren so tightly around the middle that it looks like she might explode. Kurt and Blaine are kissing like they'd never kissed in their lives, hands tangled in hair and bodies pressed impossibly close together. The younger kids are in the periphery. Rachel has trouble remembering all of their names, but that little lesbian with the tattoos and little gay boy are holding hands. The lesbian is staring at Santana, as usual, and the gay boy is staring at Blaine, also, as usual. The boy with the dreadlocks is holding the redhead around her waist, but she's staring at Brittany like there's no tomorrow and he's staring at Mercedes. She can't help but resent the freshmen, even now. They have no idea what it took the Glee Club to get to this place. Brittany and Santana are, of course, oblivious to the stares in their direction, and maintain their gaze on one another. It's not sexual, for once, especially back in those days. Rachel has been around them enough to know when a silent gaze equals sexy times. This is tender. This is relief. This says 'we finally made it, Britt', without saying anything at all. Rachel thinks of Nico and Olivia, and of the unknown children Brittany is sure they'll call Sunshine and Rainbow and Unicorn if she gets her way, and knows that they'll look at this picture that hangs in everyone of their mothers' friends homes and see nothing in it. They won't understand that their mothers struggled to become who they were, that they weren't always the happy couple they see them as today. Nico will laugh at his mami's grin and his mama's smirk, and not realize all the tears and pain and vulnerability that resulted in this picture. She knows that one day, Hannah and Harper and Lily will look at this picture, and they will see their mother all alone in the corner and Aunt Rachel, center of attention, and that in all of these pictures, despite all the milliseconds and all the angles, not a gaze will be shared between the two of them. That, for all the history she and Quinn have together, there's not a single photograph that shows that they have ever been anything more than just two people who went to the same high school, who happened to participate in the same extracurricular activity. Maybe, Rachel thinks, it's time she makes peace with the fact that they may not ever be much more than that. She stands up in one move, shutting the photo album and blowing out the Hanukkah candles.

* * *

Quinn is in her room. It's her childhood room, and not much has changed since childhood. Her mom never really bothered to update the décor in most of the house, even though she had been living there alone for the better part of the last two decades, and Quinn's room was no exception. When Quinn was young, sometimes they'd joke that she was seven going on seventy, and her room is a reflection of that, so maybe her mother didn't really need to change it. Her mother is listening to Christmas music downstairs, undoubtedly dancing with her Martini, or Chardonnay, or Cape Cod, or whatever is the drink of the night. Quinn slips into her pajamas and turns off the big light in her room, leaving just the light on her bed table. The light casts a ghostly glow over her the pictures on her end table. Her gaze stops on a picture of the Glee Club after their win at Nationals their senior year. This picture is a few hours after they've celebrated their win, after Mr. Schuester popped the cork on the Sparkling Apple Cider and failed to hold back his tears. It's after the pizza and the impromptu performance of "Don't Stop Believing" in the boys' hotel room. The girls are now all packed into their little hotel room, with the exception of Brittany and Santana who went out to get ice an hour and a half earlier, and haven't been heard of since. She had heard Santana rambling on about Tribeca and Henrietta something-or-other to a bemused Brittany and then they were gone. Quinn and Rachel are making eye contact from a few feet apart and Mercedes snapped the picture, giving it to Quinn a few months later as they said their goodbyes and all went their separate ways for college, simply saying "you guys look cute. Like you get it now. Or something."

"Get what?" Quinn asked Mercedes as they stood in line at the keg in Puck's backyard.

"I don't know exactly," Mercedes clarified, shrugging. "I mean, I'm obviously friends with both of you, you lived with me for months, Quinn, in case you forgot. I just like this picture. It's like…you get something, about Glee Club, about life, about high school…and you're sharing it in this moment. I thought you should have it." Mercedes finishes with a shrug.

All Quinn knows about the picture is that she had a little alcohol in her system, and Rachel probably did too, because after Mr. Schuester left them Santana opened the mini-fridge with the reasoning "we're all over 18, which makes this legal in Europe, and we're about to be in college anyway, so who really is going to give a fuck?" Santana didn't stay around for long, though, and they'd probably just about finished the contents of that mini-fridge. Quinn's smiling at Rachel, thinking of her solo, and of a year ago when Rachel told her that she was more than just a pretty face, and how much she wished any of her boyfriends had ever said that to her. She's thinking that Glee Club is special…and that, somehow, it makes her special too. Quinn loves that picture. She thinks that maybe, all this work she's been doing to get her life back, might lead to her feeling like she's part of something special again. She smiles at the thought as she climbs into bed and shuts off the light.

* * *

"They're delightful, Brittany, they really are," Caroline said as Brittany and her mother returned from putting the twins to bed. Brittany took her seat next to Santana on the couch and Gracie rolled her eyes.

"Thanks, mom," Brittany said. "We're pretty lucky." She kissed Santana on the forehead.

"It has nothing to do with luck. It's those awesome Pierce genes." Santana said, earning her a wide smile from Mitchell and Caroline. Santana looked over at Gracie, confused, seeing the devious grin work its way across the younger girl's face.

"I guess we just have to hope that the Lopez genes work out just as well for your next kid, right, San?" Gracie asked, smirking. Mitchell and Caroline furrowed their brow in confusion. Santana rolled her eyes, stopping only when she noticed Caroline looking at her with her eyes wide.

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed, resting her hand on Santana's stomach. "You mean? Congratulations!" She squealed.

"No, mom, no," Brittany said, quieting her mother down. "Santana's not pregnant."

"But…"

"I think Gracie just means that Santana is planning on carrying our next child," Brittany clarified.

"So, that's why you're building the addition to your house!" Mitchell said, excited to be part of the conversation. "We knew something was going on! You wanted to get it finished _before_ Santana gets pregnant."

"Well, I think this an occasion calling for some champagne." Caroline said, hopping up from her seat.

"But, we're not even pregnant yet," Brittany said, noting that the color had drained completely from Santana's face.

"I know, but how can I help but want to celebrate when my favorite daughters' are planning on giving me more grandchildren?" Caroline asked, retrieving a bottle of champagne from the wine refrigerator.

"Wow. I'm right here. Biological daughter," Grace said, gesturing to herself. "Daughter-in-law," she said, gesturing to Santana. Santana smirked.

"And look at Santana," Caroline said to no one in particular. "She's beautiful. I'm going to have a brood of beautiful grandchildren," she said, popping the cork out of the bottle. Mitchell finally picked up on Santana's discomfort.

"So, how are things going with the renovations, by the way?" He asked the girls.

"They're going," Santana replied. "Everything is in place structurally, we're on to the aesthetics. Luckily, we have one of our neighbor's kids housesitting to take care of Lola and Lord Tubbington IV, so he's also letting the contractors in to finish up while we're gone."

"I took a look at those blueprints you sent me, Santana. It looks like it's going to be pretty amazing." Brittany looked over at her wife, surprised. She didn't know that Santana and her father communicated on their own.

"I certainly hope so. So, Mitchell, have you been following the Bengals this season?"

"Trying not too. They're atrocious."

"I know. We're going to have to put all of our eggs in the Seahawks basket, yet again." Brittany and her mother started to talk quietly as Santana and Mitchell went on about football.

"You must be beside yourself with excitement, Brittany," her mother said, taking a sip of her champagne.

"I'm trying not to be, mom," Brittany replied, quietly. "She wants to wait for things to be more settled down, you know, when she's not going through a job change, renovations on our house, and two toddlers." Her mother gave her that typical, "knowing" mother look. "Okay, I'm excited," Brittany admitted. Her mother squealed again, pulling Brittany in for a hug. "Santana's right though, we're waiting for the renovations to be finished and for her to be settled in to a new job before we start expanding on our family." Brittany explained, reasonably. Her mother just stared at her, a flush in her cheeks. "What?" Brittany asked.

"Nothing," her mother replied.

"Why are you staring at me weird?"

"It's just…I'm just so proud of you. You've grown up to do such wonderful things with your life, and you have a beautiful, loving wife, two wonderful children, a successful career…I just can't help but remember when you were my little Brittany and you were trying to find a way to be a unicorn when you grew up."

"I'm still kind of disappointed I can't be a unicorn when I grow up." Brittany's brow knit together in thought. What if she _had _become a unicorn? Could she and Santana have unicorn-human sex? Would unicorn-human relationships be frowned upon by larger society? Would Santana have pushed her to come out as a unicorn, thus exposing the species to be, in fact, real? They would probably have to start a coalition for the rights of unicorns and unicorn-human relationships—

"Are you okay, Brittany?" Her mother asked. Brittany smiled, grateful that at some point in the last ten years the filter between her brain and her mouth had finally grown in.

"Yeah," Brittany said, simply. "Just thinking that I'm pretty glad I grew up in a non-unicorn kind of way."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: **I _finally_ have internet at my new place, and housing crisis is averted, so you should expect updates about weekly now. I'm sorry for all the delays in all of my stories, but I've signed a year lease, which means things will be stable from here on out. The lack of internet, however, may have made my chapters a little rambling and navel-gazing, so I apologize for that. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez." Brittany whispered into Santana's ear, her breath warm and moist as her lips grazed Santana's small ear lobe, the nape of her neck, then underneath her chin.

"Too early, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez. Way too early." Santana mumbled into her pillow, her back still pressed against her wife's front. She had been up until three helping her brothers and cousins get the Santa presents ready around the tree. Apparently, since she was a parent, it was now part of her duties to help, although, as Santana pointed out throughout the long night, her kids were too young to understand about Santa, so she really should be allowed to go to bed at a normal hour. Plus, she shouldn't be punished for _their _lack of planning, and they were being sexist. Why did their wives get to go to sleep? Since when was Santana the 'husband' in her marriage? Her brothers, however, as usual, took any opportunity to torture and tease their sister, so she was up until three, and she _really_ was not ready to be waking up, despite the warm, wet, kisses Brittany was placing on her bare shoulders at the moment.

"It's Christmas," Brittany whispered, the excitement still seeping through her tired voice. "I was hoping Santana Claus had a special gift for me this year," she continued. Her voice was thick and scratchy, lower than usual.

"Well, you'll just have to wait for it downstairs," Santana said, exasperated, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Not that kind of gift," Brittany whispered, slowly running her fingers up the front of Santana's top. "A special, before the kids wake up kind of a gift," she continued, using her free hand to pull Santana's hips flush with her body. "And you should know, I've been _very_ good this year, Santana Claus."

"Have you, Mrs. Lopez?" Santana asked, her body pressing closer to Brittany's against her will, but still unable to open her eyes. "I'd say you've been very naughty," Santana said, arching her back into Brittany's front as Brittany drew light patterns around Santana's breasts, and kissed a slow, perfectly straight path down her spine.

"Well, if that's the case, let me make it up to you, Santana Claus," Brittany said, taking advantage of Santana's newly arched position to slip her hand between her wife's thighs. Santana let out a deep, tired, groan.

"We have to be quiet, Britt, my whole family is here," Santana whispered while Brittany teased Santana, dragging her fingers like feathers up Santana's torso and down to her thighs, but careful to avoid any of the areas which mattered the most. Brittany let out a small moan, grasping tightly to her hips as Santana canted backwards toward her, grinding back in Brittany's body. Brittany slid her hand back up Santana's shirt, and gently squeezed Santana's breast, eliciting a deep moan. Santana grasped Brittany's hand, interlacing their fingers, urging her on. Brittany smiled into her wife's back.

"Don't worry, honey. We'll be like quiet little Christmas mice," she said, continuing to rub Santana's breast as she allowed her other hand to trail slowly toward Santana's shorts. "Quiet Christmas mice."

* * *

"Get up, get up, get up, get up!" Hannah, Harper, and Lily all squealed, jumping up and down on Quinn's bed.

"Please, mommy!" Harper begged, opening her blue eyes wide. "Santa came!" Harper rolled her eyes at the Santa comment, prompting a sharp glare from Quinn.

"Seriously, mom, I wants to get at them presents, and I wants at them now." Lily said.

"Oh, Jesus." Quinn finally replied.

"It is his birthday," Hannah pointed out.

"It's probably all coal," Quinn said, mostly to herself, through a tired groan. She squeezed her eyes shut as she yawned, stretching her arms over her head. When she reopened them, Harper's face had completely crumpled and tears were streaming down her cheeks and Lily was staring at her wide-eyed. Sleepy-Quinn immediately shifted into motherly-Quinn at the sight of her two daughters.

"Oh, I was just kidding, baby," Quinn said, quickly enveloping the two youngest in her arms, pulling them tightly to her as she sat up in bed. They curled up on both sides of her mother. "I'm sure Santa brought you lots of wonderful presents this year!"

"But you said…." Harper began.

"Do you think Santa heard me telling people I would go all Beverly Hills Heights on them?" Lily asked, cutting her little sister off. "Because I don't even know what that means…"

"No, baby-girl, I don't think Santa _likes_ that you tell people that, per se, but it's certainly not an offense bad enough to bring coal."

"Good going, mom," Hannah said from the doorway she had retreated to once the waterworks began.

"Just go get your grandma, okay, Hannah?" Hannah rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

"I promise, Santa brought you tons of fun gifts. Why don't we all go downstairs, and you can help mommy make breakfast, and then we can see what Santa brought you this year?"

"You promise it's not coal?" Harper asked.

"Cross my heart," Quinn said. "Now, what are your thoughts on waffles?"

"With chocolate chips!" Lily said.

"And whipped cream!" Harper added.

"Okay," Quinn said, smiling at the easy change in demeanor. She wiped the tears off of the slightly reddened, chubby cheeks of Harper. "But _only_ because it's Christmas." They both squealed and pulled their mother out of bed.

"Christmas is the best," Lily said to Harper, bouncing up and down on her toes from the doorway while Quinn put on a robe over her pajamas. "You get to do, like, whatever you want, even mommy. She's probably gonna make like ten pounds of bacon." Harper giggled.

"What are you two laughing about over there?" Quinn asked.

"Nothing, mommy!" They both squealed, giggling all the way down the stairs. Quinn followed the giggling pair, quickly grabbing her cell phone from her dresser on her way out of the room. She had a text from Justin.

_Flight delayed. Will be in at 3._

Quinn rolled her eyes. She quickly typed out a text message as she walked down the stairs.

_Lily just woke me up with "I wants at them presents, and I wants at them now". Thanks a lot Santana. Merry Christmas._

* * *

"Shut up," Santana growled toward her phone that had suddenly begun playing some electronic version of Jingle Bell Rock that she most definitely had not downloaded. "When the fuck did that happen?" Santana asked the phone, mindlessly slapping at it to get the sound off.

"Did it." Brittany said, mostly into Santana's chest.

"Dammit, Britt."

"Get in spirit, and stuff." Santana rolled her eyes, behind the closed lids, at her wife's sleepy conversation skills. The sound was still going, though, and she was forced to pry her eyes open to see what was going on.

"This is just for a text message?" She mumbled to herself. "Fucking Quinn." She was about to shut the phone when she noticed the time. "Shit, Britt, we have to get up."

"Too tired," Brittany replied into Santana's chest, snuggling impossibly closer to her body. She had already draped half of her body across Santana's, her face pressed into Santana's chest, and her leg bent at the knee and swung over Santana's leg.

"Now you're too tired," Santana said, smiling into her wife's long, blond hair, inhaling the scent after the words left her mouth and threading her fingers through the messy curls. "It's nine-thirty, everyone is going to be up already, it's Christmas." Brittany's eyes widened, apparently remembering, again, that it was Christmas morning. Santana groaned as Brittany broke away from their embrace and wiped some drool off the side of her cheek. Drool that had, most likely, also accumulated on the breast Brittany had so comfortably been sleeping upon. Brittany was rifling through their luggage for clothes, her back to Santana. She turned to lean on her elbow to watch Brittany frantically jump around the room in the nude.

"Stop, being a perv, Santana, and get up!" Brittany said, her back still to her wife.

"How did you know?" Santana asked, grinning and yawning simultaneously.

"I know everything you do, honey," Brittany said, turning around to face her.

"Oh my," Santana said, taking in Brittany's completely naked body. "I-I," Santana's eyes grazed over Brittany's long legs, the sharp jut of her hips bones, the musculature of her abs, the way her breasts fell over her small waist, the bones of her collarbone, neck, the pout of her lips, until her eyes locked with Brittany's bemused cat-eyes.

"Are you twelve?" Brittany asked, playfully throwing at sock at her wide-eyed wife.

"Sometimes you make me feel like I am," Santana said, rising and wrapping her arms around her wife, slowly kissing her collarbone and allowing her hands to stray just beneath Brittany's hipbones, quietly tickling the soft flesh. She inhaled Brittany's scent again; a mix of shampoo and body wash and sweat and arousal that drew her body closer to her wife's.

"No! Santana! Get dressed." Brittany said, pulling away and throwing clothes at Santana before quickly pulling on some underwear and a pair of jeans.

"I hate you."

"You love me," Brittany smirked, throwing more clothes at Santana. "Please get dressed, baby." Brittany smiled at Santana's obvious displeasure at the situation. She walked over to wear Santana was now sitting on the edge of the bed, and straddled her lap, allowing her wife to lightly run her hands up and down her now-clothed breasts. She threw her long blond hair over one shoulder, leaning in to whisper in Santana's ear.

"If you get up now, I promise to make it up to you tonight," she whispered, her tongue flicking out to touch Santana's ear on the hard consonants. "Right here, in your room, high school style." Santana raised her eyebrows at Brittany. "And I can promise you, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, that you _won't_ need a break from all the scissoring." She hopped off Santana and opened the door. "Get dressed, honey. I'll be waiting outside," Brittany said with a wink.

Santana didn't even bother to brush her hair, she just threw on clothes and walked down to the living room, hand-in-hand with Brittany who had been waiting right outside the door. They were greeted to a round-of-applause from Santana's family. Christian whistled, Carlos slow-clapped, and everyone else looked at them with a mix of amusement and confusion.

"Now that Auntie Brittany and Auntie Tana are awake, can we _please_ open our presents?" Christian Junior, known to the family as CJ, asked his father, exasperated.

"Go ahead, mijo," Christian's wife said. At that, the throng of kids began sorting through the presents, deciding which ones belonged to whom and shreds of wrapping paper began flying through the air. With the kids preoccupied, the adults felt free to return their attention to Brittany and Santana.

"Well done, little sister," Carlos said, slowly clapping at Brittany and Santana. Brittany clung to Santana's elbow and tried to conceal her rapidly reddening cheeks in Santana's shoulder.

"Seriously, hermanita, we knew you had it in you at 18, but to do _that_, in our _parent's _house, on _Christmas morning_, at the age of _thirty_? I'm beyond impressed," Christian said.

"I had to tell my daughter that you were having a nightmare." Carlos said.

"I told my sons you were sick and Brittany was helping you. CJ said, 'it doesn't sound like she's sick. And it definitely doesn't sound like Aunt Brittany is making it any better.'"

"I am _so _sorry," Santana said, appalled that her nieces and nephews heard her having sex.

"Don't worry about it, Santana," Carlos' wife said. "They're just teasing you, it wasn't that bad. And the kids are none the wiser." Before Santana could respond, she was startled by Christian's youngest son, Hunter, grabbing her around the legs.

"Thank you for the Legos, Auntie Tana! Thank you Auntie Britty!"

"You're welcome, Hunter," they said in unison. Santana leaned down and hugged her nephew, glad to have been pulled out of that conversation.

"I'm glad you feel better, Auntie Tana!" Hunter added, before running off to sort through the rest of the gifts. The adults all howled with laughter.

"Oh, give it up!" Santana said, throwing her arms in the air. "Give me my children, mami, I'm going to help them open their gifts, the rest of you can act like children over here." Santana took both of her children in a huff and Brittany and the rest of the adults began to brave the presents now that the kids were preoccupied playing with the first round of opened gifts.

* * *

Quinn had finally finished her second cup of coffee, taken a shower, and gotten dressed. She walked down into the living room where her children were all pleasantly entertained for once with their new gifts. Lily was rolling idly back and forth on her skateboard, fiddling with the knobs on her new amplifier for her new electric guitar, a candy cane sticking halfway out of her mouth. It was an accident waiting to happen. She'd have to remind herself later to scold her mother for letting her eat an entire candy cane, let alone before noon. The girl was already bouncing off the walls half the time. Harper was building a Ferris Wheel with her new set of Knex, her tongue out and her forehead scrunched up, as she always looked when she was thinking. Hannah was laying on the couch reading a new book, the only of the girls who had changed out of her footie pajamas and into clothes. She really was growing up. Quinn smiled at the relative, and rare, calm in the room, and decided to let them be.

"Need any help?" She asked her mother, popping her head in the door of the kitchen.

"Quinnie! I do actually! I didn't get enough flour to make this pie _and _the rue. Do you think you could run out and get some more?"

"Of course, mom," Quinn said, "although I'm not sure we need this much food," Quinn added, eyeing the Christmas feast her mother was preparing.

"I know," Judy said, looking around the kitchen. She placed her hands on the counter, still holding a knife in her right hand and wiping her left hand on her Christmas apron. "It's just…all this food is tradition, Quinnie, and I guess, I guess it wouldn't really feel like Christmas if I didn't make it all, even though Frannie and her family and your father aren't here." Judy smiled sadly over at Quinn.

"It's okay, mom. I'm sure it will be delicious. I'll be back in twenty, okay?" Quinn asked, picking her mother's keys up from the counter. Her mother nodded. "Can you just pop in on the girls from time to time? You know, make sure they haven't burnt anything down?" Her mother nodded, a little confused. "Thanks," Quinn called back into the house as she grabbed her coat and walked out the door.

* * *

The house was chaos. Her nieces and nephews were running around with toy trucks and Barbies and airplanes, begging any adult in sight to install batteries into random gadgets, or decipher user manuals with vague pictures and Japanese writing. The kids had clearly moved into some kind of sugar-high frenzy; if you were over five feet tall, you were fair game to be poked and prodded into installation and construction. It looked as though the floor had exploded wrapping paper. The Pierces', other than Alexis, arrived by ten with more gifts, just adding to the chaos. Brittany and Santana sat in the corner, helping the babies tear the paper off a stacking toy, a shape sorter, a plastic drum, and foam bath toys that stick to the wall of the bathtub. Nico, however seemed perfectly content tearing the wrapping paper into little shreds and squealing as he threw it at his mothers, and Olivia only wanted to put the empty boxes on her head.

"I told you this was a waste of money, Britt," Santana said, laughing at their children, and playfully throwing a scrap of wrapping paper back at Nico, who squealed and clapped. Olivia, meanwhile, tried to decipher where the noise was coming from, craning her neck underneath the empty box of the moment. "We could have gotten them paper and empty boxes for free." Olivia knocked her hands on the sides of the box, grinning at the echo it created in her ears.

"They'll learn to love them," Brittany said. "Let's open our presents to one another! You go first." Santana carefully opened a poorly wrapped mug with 14 black doors on it.

"Thanks, Britt," Santana said, kindly kissing Brittany on the cheek.

"Wait a second," Brittany said, jumping up and returning a moment later with the coffee pot. She carefully filled the mug and slowly the doors faded away to reveal Foucault, Sappho, Andy Warhol, Tchaikovsky, Gertrude Stein, and 9 other faces.

"It's a gay mug! They're in the closet until you pour hot liquid in!" Brittany giggled blushing.

"It's hilarious, Britt," Santana said, kissing her on the lips. "I love it."

"Because you were in the closet until I put something hot in your cup!" Brittany laughed, singing the end of her sentence. Santana threw her head back with laughter, tears welling up in her eyes. Brittany fake pouted at Santana's reaction.

"It was better than _trouty mouth_, Santana."

"I know, baby, I know." Santana said, regaining control and placing a soft kiss on Brittany's lips. "I just can't believe you sang that song in front of all of those Glee nerds, every time I think about it, I just can't hold back." Brittany smiled.

"That was a good trip." She said.

"It was. Thanks so much, Britt. It really is perfect."

Santana got Brittany a metallic gold leotard and rainbow legwarmers, and Brittany produced a picture of the big desk she got for Santana for her new office.

"It's like the desk in the Oval Office! I designed it myself with a furniture maker, in Los Feliz," Brittany explained. "It's handmade."  
"It's so beautiful, Brittany, thank you." Santana pulled Brittany in for a kiss.

After they opened the gifts from one another, they moved on to the gifts from other family members. Mitchell got Santana a brown leather legal brief portfolio with SPL engraved on the front.

"It was the first gift my father gave me when I opened my own firm," Mitchell explained, looking bashfully at the ground as he spoke."

"I love it, Mitchell," Santana reassured him.

Santana's sister-in-law got her a bucket of golf ball soaps. Santana graciously hugged her, ignoring her brother's snickering.

"You don't even play golf, do you?" She asked, later on in the evening after the wine had been flowing for sometime.

"No, I don't," Santana said apologetically. "I use soap, though…"

"Carlos is such an asshole," her sister-in-law said.

"You married him," Santana pointed out. "I was just unlucky enough to be born into this family. Besides, he talked me into thinking you desperately wanted a bread maker. Brittany tried to convince me it was just going to be one of his chauvinistic jokes, but I didn't listen."

"At least this is better than the year that he told me you had a passion for dental hygiene and he got me to get you a gift basket of dental dams…" The women made eye contact and then burst out laughing.

"I _still _can't believe you didn't know what they were!" Santana laughed.

Gracie got Brittany and Santana the book "Go the Fuck to Sleep", complete with the Samuel L. Jackson recording.

"I've babysat those kids. You two need it." Gracie explained. Santana and Brittany got Gracie, "How to Survive in the Real World", to many a rolled eye. Brittany also got Gracie, "Oh the Places You'll Go".

"I have one last gift for you, mija," Maria said, pulling a book-shaped gift out from behind her back, after most of the presents had been opened, well into the afternoon. "Both of you," Maria said, glancing over at Brittany who was holding Nico in one arm and had her other resting on the small of Santana's back. Santana looked at her mother, her eyes wide and questioning. She handed Olivia to her mother in exchange for the gift, gingerly opening it up at the seams. It was her old copy of _Love You Forever_. Santana ran her hands over the worn front cover and her childhood crayon marks.

"Mama," Santana began.

"I thought it was time you had it, mija. Now that I am moving in with you and Brittany and you have two of your own to read the story to."

"Thank you, mama," Santana said.

"Thank you, Maria," Brittany said. Maria pulled them both in for a hug.

"Okay, enough with all the sappiness, I need _both _of you to help me get ready for dinner!"

* * *

Quinn liked grocery stores. There was something safe about them. Grocery stores were the same no matter where she was. Coffee was always in the same aisle as cereal, cheese and yogurt were always across from beer, Chapstick and UsWeekly, and gum, and Diet Coke bottles always awaited her in the check out aisle. No matter where she was, at the grocery store, she always knew what to expect. She didn't have to think about the grocery store, and the one thing she was finding she needed a lot less of this holiday season were her thoughts.

"Quinn," a voice said as she turned the aisle. She looked up from the patterned tiles.

"Rachel!" They locked eyes and Quinn fought with her brain to form some sort of coherent sentence. "What are you doing here?" She finally stammered out.

"Getting some groceries." Rachel replied.

"No, I mean, what are you doing in Lima?"

"Well, I'm here visiting my parents for the holidays, Quinn, as I assume you are doing as well." Quinn nervously laughed.

"Of course, of course," she smiled awkwardly at Rachel. "But…you're Jewish."

"Well, Hannukah fell very close to Christmas this year, I had some time off, and I didn't want to miss the annual Hummel-Hudson glee reunion so this seemed like a fine time to make a trip."

"Of course!" Quinn said, trying to make sure that her smile looked normal and not crazy or pathetic or forced. The more she thought about it, the worse it got. She spent so much time thinking about how crazy her smile looked, that she didn't realize they'd just been sitting in silence for about thirty seconds.

"Where are the girls?" Rachel finally asked.

"With my mother." They stood awkwardly with their purchases in hand. They were snapped out of their trance by Leroy clearing his throat behind Rachel. Quinn had been too shocked to even notice that Rachel's fathers were standing behind her. Suddenly she was knocked back into the realization that she was a thirty-year-old woman, not a confused teenager, and she had some manners. Maybe even some social skills.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn said, quickly putting her Beverly Hills housewife smile on. "I'm Quinn," she said, extending her hand to Leroy and then to Hiram. "We've met a few times, I think, when Rachel and I were in the glee club together in high school."

"Of course," Hiram said, shaking Quinn's hand. "It's lovely to see you again."

"You too," Quinn smiled back. "Well, I guess I should get going," she said, pointing awkwardly at the flour in her hand. "You know, my mother is attempting to 'bake' again," she said using air quotes. The two men nodded as Quinn walked around them toward the register. Her mind was flowing a mile a minute. This was a chance for her to do something, a chance for her to maybe make something right, to try and make sure that she did not end up like her mother. Maybe, even, a chance to be a part of something special, because, at thirty and with three children, Quinn was realizing she knew much less about the world, and life, and love than she thought, but she was pretty sure that Rachel was someone special.

"Do you have plans today?" Quinn asked, swinging around just before the Berrys' turned down the next aisle. Rachel looked at her quizzically. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you have plans, just because you're not Christian…I shouldn't have assumed…"

"We don't," Leroy said, simply.

"Oh. Well, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? I'm sure the girls would love to see you, Rachel. And my mom is cooking us this enormous feast, which is absolutely ridiculous because it's just us and Justin. And he's not even here yet, he's getting in at three, you know, to be with the girls on Christmas, but I don't know what he's been doing for the last month." Quinn could feel her heart beating in her chest. Hiram looked at her quizzically as she rambled on, a slight flush forming on her cheeks.

"We'd love to!" Hiram said, grinning.

"Great!" Quinn said, ignoring Rachel's blanched face. "Why don't you come by around 5?" Hiram nodded, and Quinn grinned, heading toward the register. It wasn't until she got to her mother's car that she began to wonder what she'd gotten herself into.

"This is good," she reminded herself as she drove back to her mother's house, nervously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "It may be awkward, but I've done awkward before." Quinn turned up the Christmas song playing on the radio.

* * *

"Well," Hiram said, after Quinn had left. "Shall we scratch the veggie burgers and Babs marathon and get something nice to bring to the Fabray Christmas dinner?"

"I can't believe we are going to that, daddy," Rachel finally said, breaking her silence.

"What's wrong?"

"I was just looking forward to Barbra and it's just," Rachel trailed off, pretending to read the label on a box of Trix. "It's just going to be awkward."

"I'm sorry, honey, I assumed you two had become friends since graduation since you obviously know her children."

"It's not that…it's just…never mind, it's done. I have the recipe for a delicious vegan casserole, the kids love it," Rachel said, leading her fathers through the grocery store. Leroy shrugged his shoulders at Hiram and they followed their little star.

* * *

Brittany put the finishing touches on her five-layer dip in the kitchen. Santana had helped her make three this year since it always had proven so popular. Gracie approached her with an eggnog in hand.

"How many of those have you had tonight, Gracie?"

"Not enough. There are, like, twelve kids here. Kids are _so _not my thing."

"Maybe they will be one day. You were a pretty cute kid yourself, you know that, Gracie?" Grace just rolled her eyes. "Although maybe mom was right about not letting Santana hang around you so much when you were little, because you certainly have picked up on more of her traits than anyone in our family."

"You chose to have children with her."

"So what? They'll be fierce." Brittany replied. Gracie was distracted, however, by something in the corner of the room.

"Oh. My. God. Is Santana playing Vampirates?" Brittany followed her sister's eye line to Santana who, sure enough, was wearing an eyepatch, a scarf, a pirate hat, and had a sword in hand. She was standing on a chair, apparently giving some sort of pirate speech to her nephews and nieces.

"Did she, like, bring Vampirate stuff with her or something? That costume is pretty decked out. I think there are even handcuffs hanging from her belt."

"She probably just found our old costume stuff from High School."

"You guys still played Vampirate in High School? Like when you _weren't _babysitting me?" Brittany's ears turned red, but she hoped Gracie didn't notice.

"What?" Brittany said, trying to cover her tracks. "Vampirate is fun."

"Sure, sis, whatever you say. I'm going to continue to let you believe that I am the virginal littlest sister and that I have no reason to have the phrase 'let's get our sexy vampirate time on' engraved in my memory." Brittany's blush rushed to her full face now. "Besides, Britt, I'm going to go help Santana. Maybe I can be Puck?" Her sister seemed to think about this for a moment. "It's not like you were going to ever give me that recipe anyway," Gracie said as she walked away to join Santana. Gracie was right. She was never going to give this recipe away.

* * *

"Daddy!" Quinn heard Lily squeal from the other side of the house while she helped her mother in the kitchen. Quinn looked up and briefly caught her mother's eye. Judy was shooting Quinn a sympathetic look. Quinn wiped her hands on the dishtowel hanging from the door of the refrigerator and walked toward the foyer where all three of her daughters were wrapped up in Justin's arms. She smiled adoringly over at her daughters, wrapped up in their father's arms. She never understood when she was younger and parents would say they'd always love their exes for giving them their children. She understood it now. She couldn't help but look at the smiling faces of her daughters and feel some sense of affection for the man in front of her.

"Merry Christmas, Quinn," he said, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"You too, Justin." They pulled apart, awkwardly.

"Daddy, let us show you everything Santa brought us!" Lily squealed, dragging her father toward the living room. Justin winked at Judy and left to play with the girls.

Half-an-hour later, Justin showed up in the kitchen, absentmindedly popping pieces of food that lay on the counter into his mouth.

"We didn't get to say a proper hello, Judy," he said, placing his hand on the small of her back and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"We didn't," Judy smile at Justin, shooting a quick but wary look over to Quinn. "Merry Christmas, dear."

"You too, Judy."

"Did you get a chance to talk to your parents?"

"I did, they're with my sisters and my nieces and nephews, so I got to speak to everyone on the phone this morning before my flight left."

"Wonderful. Well, send them my holiday wishes."

"Of course, Judy," Justin said. "You two are cooking up a storm in here! I thought it was just going to be the six of us?" Quinn didn't look up from the celery she was chopping.

"Oh! Quinnie ran into a friend of hers from high school at the grocery store this morning and she and her family will be joining us for dinner!" Judy said, casually. Justin's eyes narrowed at Quinn, who still hadn't looked up from her chopping.

"Who's the friend, _Quinnie_?" Justin asked. Quinn didn't respond.

"Oh, I don't know if you've met her, they were in the glee club together, her name is Rachel Berry. I hear she has quite the burgeoning movie career! I'm not going to lie, sometimes I brag about Quinn knowing her, even though I know they weren't the closest of friends in high school."

"Oh, I know Rachel, Judy. She was at Brittany and Santana's wedding."

"That's right! They had the whole glee club there."

"If Brittany had her way all of McKinley would have been there," Quinn said, laughing to herself and attempting to change the subject.

"Yes, and Quinn and Rachel have become quite close since Rachel has moved to Los Angeles." Justin said, sarcastically.

"Well, it was nice to have someone around to help me with your children once Brittany and Santana had two of their own to deal with and I was all alone."

"Oh, I'm sure Rachel was really helpful dealing with _our_ children, while I was off making money so you could buy that fancy dress you're wearing right now!" Justin said, snapping the strap on Quinn's dress.

"You know, it's Christmas, and I recognize that this has never been the most functional of families, but if you two are going to put on this show of marital bliss for your children, you could do it for me as well. Please, just keep it together tonight." Judy said, before the argument could escalate. Justin stormed out of the room.

* * *

The doorbell rang and Santana took off her eyepatch since no one else seemed free to go open it.

"Lexi!" Santana said, excitedly pulling her sister-in-law in for a hug. "Come in, come in!" Santana said, ushering them into the house.

"Luke," Alexis said, as they walked into the foyer of the Lopez house, "this is my sister-in-law, Santana, she's Brittany's wife, and Santana this is Luke, my boyfriend." Santana's eyes immediately narrowed. She extended her hand.

"Luke."

"It's really nice to meet you, Santana. Alexis talks about you and Brittany and your children all the time. I've seen pictures of them—they're adorable! Oh, and merry Christmas!"

"You too, Luke," she said as they walked through the house. If this guy thought he could butter her up just by complimenting her children, he was going to be in for a rude awakening. Lopez's protected their own, and Alexis might as well have been a Lopez at this point, and it was Christmas, meaning a lot of Lopez's around to defend Alexis' honor. Santana felt a little smug though when she saw his eyes widen at how crowded it was, and how silent the room got when he walked in. She walked over to stand by Brittany and picked up Nico, relieving Brittany of one child.

"Everyone, this is Luke, Luke, this is my family," Alexis said awkwardly as everyone stood in silence staring at the young man.

"It's nice to meet all of you," he said awkwardly.

"It's going to be okay," Alexis said softly to Luke after everyone resumed their conversation.

"I just need some explanation…I thought you said you had a small family."

"I do…sort of. Mom and Dad are only children, and our grandparents passed away a little while ago. We've been spending the holidays with the Lopez's for about the last ten years, or so, though. That," she said, gesturing over to a mimosa clutching blond in the corner, "is my little sister, Gracie. And over there," she gestured to Brittany and Santana, who each had a child on their hip, "is my older sister, Brittany, and you met her wife, Santana. Those are their twins, Nico and Olivia. Of course you've met my parents. Talking to my parents are Christian and Susan. Christian is Santana's brother and Susan is his wife. They have four children. Over there, on the couch, is Santana's Aunt Rita and her two children. On the loveseat is Carlos, another of Santana's older brothers. His wife and two children are here somewhere. Santana's younger brother, Daniel, is in the corner on the phone."

"The one you had a thing with in high school."

"We prefer to not acknowledge that now. It just feels too incestuous. And Santana's Aunt Gloria is probably in the kitchen with her children. And that's the family!" Alexis said, hoping her new boyfriend would take this all in stride.  
"This does explain the copious amount of presents in the trunk. I thought you were just generous." Alexis laughed.

"I know, it may seem unconventional," she said, looking around the extremely crowded living room, "but there's a lot of love here, and that's what makes a family, right?" She asks, already knowing the answer. Luke doesn't respond, he simply pulls her in for a tight kiss on the lips.

* * *

"So, Miss Lily, what grade are you in?" Hiram asked the little blond sitting to the left of him.

"First," she said simply, through her mouthful of ham. "It's pretty cool."

"That's good," Hiram said. "I take it you are as good a student as your mother was?"

"Better, I think. I'm going to go to Harvard. She just went to USC. Pretty lame."

"Hey!" Quinn said. "Your dad and Aunt S went to USC too." Lily seemed to think about this for awhile.

"I guess if Aunt S went there…anyway, I think I'm a better student than mommy. I got 100% on all my spelling tests this year, except for the one after she and Rachel and Aunts S and B went to Big Bear."

"Who are S and B?" Leroy asked the table.

"Santana and Brittany," Justin clarified.

"Of course, the daffy blond and that feisty Latina girlfriend of hers."

"Wife, now, daddy," Rachel clarified. "They were married around five or six years ago. Remember, I went to the wedding?"

"That's right. High School sweethearts," Leroy said, smiling over at Hiram. "She's your lawyer now, right honey?" Hiram asked.

"She is," Rachel said, taking a sip of her wine. "They're the ones I've been spending so much time with," Rachel said.

"I never made the connection," Leroy said, taking a sip of his own wine, "between that high school lesbian couple and the ones you've been spending time with lately. Although I guess I should have."

"Mommy and Rachel and Aunt B and Aunt S totally ditched us for Big Bear one weekend." Harper said.

"I was abouts to go all Beverly Hill Heights on them cause Aunt Franny is capital C, crazy." Lily added. "Did you know that, grandma?"

"I had my suspicions," Judy said through a smirk.

"Aunt Franny took away Lily's skateboard and made her wear stupid pink dresses, and said that Aunt B and Aunt S were turning her Lebsenen—"

"It's _Lebanese_," Hannah said, exasperated.

"Lesbian, honey," Quinn said, softly to Hannah and Harper.

"Whatever. She said they were turning her _gay_ and Lily cried a ton—" Harper continued, annoyed that her story had been interrupted.

"I didn't cry!"

"Yeah, you did!"

"Shut up, Harper! You're such a baby!"

"No, I'm not! You _did _cry, until mommy told you that Aunt S and Aunt B weren't turning you Lebanese and even if you were Lebanese, there was nothing wrong with that, and that Aunt Franny was crazy."

"Harper's crazy, Uncle Hiram," Lily said, shoving some mashed potatoes into her mouth. "I didn't cry, because I know that Aunties B and S are, like, the most super coolest ever, _and _they're Lebanese. I didn't get 100% on my spelling test because mommy and Rachel weren't there to help me study and Aunt Franny is dumb."

"Well, I'm sure you'll still get into Harvard." Hiram said, trying to suppress his laughter.

"I'm going to go to Julliard, like Rachel, Uncle Hiram." Hannah said, chiming in. Hiram and Leroy smiled at one another with this uncle the girls decided to put in front of their names. "She's been helping me with my school play!"

"Is that so?" Hiram asked, smiling at the little girl.

"Yeah. Rachel is the best." Hannah said, smiling at Rachel who just tousled the little girl's hair and grinned sheepishly. She caught Quinn's eyes for a second; her eyes were squinted and glinting with adoration. Neither of them noticed Justin angrily take a swig of his beer from the other side of the table.

* * *

"So," Brittany said, shifting Olivia from one hip to the other, "you're dating my sister." She said to Luke.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Why?"

"Why am I dating her?" Brittany nodded as though it were the most obvious question in the world. "Well, because she's beautiful, and funny, and smart, and we have a lot in common."

"Like what?"

"Well, we work together, in the same lab. We both have a passion for forensic science."

"That sounds boring. Your relationship is based on bones and the fact that my sister is pretty?"

"I have a great amount of respect for your sister, Brittany. Her being beautiful is an added bonus, but it's really her intelligence and her wit and that sense of innocence that drew me to her. She's a wonderful human being. I would do anything for her."

"You better. That's my little sister. You know, my wife may seem like she's all fancy and professional, and yeah, she's a lawyer now, but she's _still _from Lima Heights Adjacent. Have you _been _to Lima Heights Adjacent, Luke?" Luke shook his head, nervously. "Well, it's on the other side of the tracks. I know for a fact she _still _keeps razor blades all up in her weave," Brittany made eye contact with a grinning Santana over Luke's shoulder. "She has to, you know. She's the lawyer for Lil' Wayne, G-Monster, and Steal-a-ho. When those _bitches_ get in gang shit in Compton, you know that Santana's the one who has to get them out of it. She _saved _L. Tubbington's ass after that shootout in Crenshaw. I wouldn't be surprised if she managed to smuggle her Baretta onto the plane and into Lima. So don't _fuck_ with my sister." Brittany finished, covering Olivia's ears when she said "fuck". Luke looked mildly terrified. Santana, over his shoulder, struggle to bite back a laugh at all of Brittany's bullshit. She didn't know she had it in her.

"I—I would never do anything to your sister, Brittany."

"You better not. Can I trust you to hold my daughter while I go find my badass wife?"

"Of course, of course, Brittany. Go ahead." She handed Olivia to him and walked over to Santana, who had, of course, been standing behind Luke the entire time.

"Steal-A-Ho, Britt-Britt? Really?" Santana asked as she and Brittany walked back into the kitchen.

"What? He's a science nerd, I doubt he's up to date on his gangsta rappers."

"And Britt, you do know that _this _is Lima Heights Adjacent, right?"

"Of course," Brittany said, shrugging. "But he doesn't have to know that," she smirked.

"I love you, Brittany Pierce," Santana said, looking up at her wife.

"It's Pierce-Lopez, to you," Brittany said with a grin, popping a carrot in her mouth.

* * *

"Thanks for coming, Rachel," Quinn said as they worked on the dishes after dinner.

"Of course. It was really nice of you to invite us. We really had no plans for today and it's always hard to find something to do on Christmas, you know, being a Jew in Lima."

"I'm sure."

"Plus, it's been so long since I've seen the girls, I miss them," Rachel said, taking a wet plate from Quinn's hands and running the towel around the edges.

"They miss you," Quinn said, softly, handing Rachel another plate. "I miss you, Rachel." Rachel slammed the plate in her hands into the drying rack.

"You know, you don't just get to do that, Quinn?"

"Do what? Admit that I miss you? Admit that I want to have you in my life?"

"No! Just because it's Christmas you don't get to pretend that this summer and this fall didn't happen! That I didn't lay it on the line for you, and you rejected me. You didn't even have the decency to tell me that you left your husband! I had to hear it through the grapevine. You barely speak to me at Thanksgiving, and now you're lonely and it's Christmas and all of a sudden you miss me!"

"I _always_ miss you, Rachel. I didn't reject you! I needed time to think! God, everything is so easy for you! You have this amazing career, and people probably banging down your door for dates, and I'm a thirty-year-old mother of three with a cheating husband, zero work experience, finally realizing that I'm attracted to women and you want me to suddenly drop everything and yell from the rooftop that I…I…"

"That you what, Quinn?" Rachel stared into Quinn's eyes, pleading her silently for an answer. "You what?" Rachel asked again. Quinn broke Rachel's gaze and stared at the ground. "You think it's so easy for me, because I have no responsibilities to the people in my life. I've worked so hard to get to where I am professionally, and as a result, I am alone." Rachel looked down at the dishes in front of her. "Do you know that feeling when you walk into Brittany and Santana's?" Quinn looked up at Rachel curiously. "I don't know the word for it…I don't know that there is a word for it. It's like…it's always bright in there, and a little noisy. They have so much stuff. I always wonder what they would do if they suddenly had to move. There's stuff on the counters and stuff on the tables and stuff in the cabinets, and I always wonder how they accumulated so many belongings. I can move everything I own, with the exception of my furniture and my piano, in a four-door sedan. There's always music playing in their house, and this smell…this very distinct smell. It's sweet and smells like Dolce & Gabbana perfume and Pledge and Herbal Essences and dust and grilled onions and sugar and hardwood floors and baby powder."

"It smells like home." Rachel made eye contact with Quinn again, allowing her deep brown eyes to stare into the hazel ones in front of her.

"I feel that with you, Quinn. I think…I think I always have. You're my…my…"

"Honey, your old dad here is tired, I think we…I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Hiram asked, suddenly feeling awkward standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"No, daddy, it's fine, it's time we get going," Rachel said, turning to her father. "It was lovely seeing you, Quinn."

"You too, Rachel. I'll see you tomorrow at the glee reunion."

"Of course."

Hiram and Leroy listened to NPR as they drove back from the Fabray household.

"It sounds like you and Quinn have become quite close," Leroy began.

"I guess," Rachel said.

"You seem close with her children."

"I am." Hiram gave Leroy a look as if to tell him to drop it. Leroy shook his head, but they drove the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

"It pushed over bookcases, took things off the walls, and picked up his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes the mother would say, this kid is driving me crazy!" Brittany giggled from the doorway at Santana's reading voice and had to move away from the door for a second until she regained her composure. Santana was reading softly now, gently bouncing the babies on her lap. "She would pick him up and rock him, back and forth, back and forth, and sing. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

"Mind if I join you?" Brittany asked. "It looks like you have your hands full."

"Of course not, Britt," Santana replied looking up from the book. She moved over on the couch and handed Nico to Brittany so that she could put her arm around her. Brittany rested her head on Santana's shoulder as Santana continued reading the book to their children in the dim light of the room, now only lit with Christmas lights on the tree. Neither of them noticed when Maria and Caroline entered the room, having finally finished cleaning the dishes from Christmas dinner.

"The son walked over to the mommy, he picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth and sang. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my mommy you'll be."

"They're beautiful," Caroline whispered to Maria. "All four of them."

"I know."

"We're lucky," Caroline whispered. Maria nodded her head. They retreated back into the kitchen, giving the girls some space. "I know this time of the year is hard, ever since…" Caroline trailed off, and then grasped Maria's hands. "You know you are always welcome at our house, we're family." Maria smiled at her and the older women hugged.

"Thank you," she replied.

* * *

"You're a fucking liar," Justin said quietly, barging into Quinn's room. Quinn didn't need to smell the beer on his breath to know that he had been drinking. Justin had a lot of faults, but anger and aggression were not among them, unless he had too much to drink.

"What are you talking about Justin?" Quinn asked nonchalantly.

"_Her_," he spat out. "You know exactly who I'm talking about Lucy Quinn Fabray." They stayed locked in a staring match. "Look, Quinn," Justin began, visibly calming down and rubbing his hand over his face, "I know, I have been far from the ideal of husbands." Quinn scoffed. "Don't do that, right now," he said, turning to face her. "I have had my…" he looked at the ground, scuffing his foot against her floor, "my indiscretions. I'm on the road all the time, away from my family, drinking, celebrating, sometimes things get out of control…"

"I really, _really_ don't need to hear about your indiscretions right now."

"I know, Quinn. I know you. I _love _you. Everything that you are, from that girl that I met at your first college party to the woman who stands before me today. I want to make this right with you. But, we can't do that unless you're honest with me too. I know that something is going on with you and Rachel."

"You don't know anything."

"Maybe I don't in a tangible level, but Quinn, don't throw me out like the dishwater. We've been together for 12 years. I _know _you. I know that the way you looked at her is not the way you look at your friends. I've come clean with you, I'm asking you to come clean with me." Justin looked at Quinn, his eyes begging for some sort of response. Quinn was silent. "I will never, ever, try to justify my mistakes. I cheated. I made bad decisions and thought I could get away with them. They didn't _mean _anything to me. I thought, at the time, that I was fulfilling some sort of physical need, while keeping my heart secure with you. I see now that it was wrong. If you, if you have feelings for Rachel, please tell me. I'm going to fight for you, Quinn, if all you feel for her were physical desires to fill a need. But if you love her? I have to let you go." They stood in silence. Quinn's heart and Quinn's brain were moving faster than she thought possible. For the second time in three months, she was being asked to make a decision when she didn't have time to prepare for it, to weigh the pros and cons, to think about the implications of her words. She was forced to think with her feelings, which Quinn Fabray did not do best. She looked up at her husband, his eyes wide, the same way her children looked when asking her for guidance. There was something about seeing her children in her husbands eyes that made her emotionally vulnerable. She felt unable to lie to that face she had come to know so well.

"I love her, J. I'm in love with her. I think I always have been." His face crumpled at her words. He fell to his knees, his body wracked with gut wrenching sobs. She wiped his face and put her into his bed, crawling in next to him, but keeping her space. Even as he softly cried, Quinn could only think to herself. _She loved Rachel Berry. She was in love with Rachel Berry. She had never admitted it out loud. But, she loved her. _Tears streamed down Justin's face, and he desperately tried to avoid them. Quinn loved Rachel. They were done._  
_


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Sorry for the long wait! Thanks for your reviews!

* * *

"Don't you think we see enough of the New Directions kids in real life, Britt?" Santana asked Brittany as they playfully fought for room in front of the mirror on Santana's vanity in her bedroom.

"This is the one time, once a year, that we all get together again, Santana."

"We see everyone important on a regular basis."

"I'm not arguing with you about this again. Also, I want to use your new lip gloss, the vanilla one that Jenny gave you." Brittany said, holding out her hand.

"I don't like her. She always gives me the weirdest gifts." Santana said, handing the lip gloss to Brittany's open palm.

"Don't change the subject," Brittany said, stopping to apply the lip gloss. "You know you always have a good time. Even though you pretend to hate it, I know you were close with Tina, who you never see, and you love Mr. Schue."

"Well, Mr. Schue doesn't love me."

"He came to our wedding."

"Well, everyone came to our wedding. For you." Santana said, turning to face Brittany. "Because you're perfect," she paused, placing a kiss on Brittany's ear, "and beautiful," she kissed Brittany's jaw line, "and smart," she finished with a kiss on her lips. Brittany squirmed away and struggled to hide her smile.

"You're messing up my lip gloss!" She said, leaning into the mirror to reapply. She turned toward her wife, her eyes serious. "Santana, we're not discussing this anymore. We've been out of high school for twelve years, and we've gone to this reunion every year. Why do we have to argue about it?"

"Because if we didn't argue, you'd think I was replaced by a pod person, and you'd try to kill me. So, I can't change my ways. It's self-preservation," Santana said, shrugging her shoulders and placing a sticky kiss on Brittany's forehead.

"Pod people aren't real," Brittany replied, rolling her eyes as she expertly worked a curling iron in the bottom of her hair.

"This, coming from the woman who has been trying to sell me on the existence of unicorns, fairies, and talking animals for the last twenty years." Santana said under her breath.

"I heard that, Santana," Brittany said, swinging around in the chair, "and I believe in positive mystical creatures. Positivity. Maybe I can teach you about it someday." Brittany said, playfully.

"Doubtful," Santana said, laying back on her bed.

"The point is, we're going, and I'm done talking about it."

"Ugh, fine," Santana said, sitting up and walking toward the door. "I'm going to get Nico from my mother. He's going to hate this as much as I am."

"Glad you can get a baby to agree with you, Santana!" Brittany yelled as Santana walked down the hall.

* * *

"There's just no reason for you to go to this anymore!" Quinn yelled at Justin, slamming her curling iron down on the table.

"Can't I go because I've gone for the last ten years? Because, perhaps, I've made relationships with these nerdy glee club kids you hold so dear to your heart?" He sneered out at her.

"I just don't understand _why_ you feel the need to be there," Quinn said, lowering her voice. "Half of them know we're splitting up, I thought—" Quinn looked up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "—I thought that it was clear after our conversation last night that this relationship is beyond repair. There is no reason to keep up the farce."

"Our children are the reason, Quinn," Justin said softly. "Look, I was honest with you last night. I'm not going to make a fool of myself fighting for you when you love someone else, but I don't want to lose my whole family. Please, just let me keep this tradition."

"I don't want you to come, Justin. But, I won't stop you, either."

"Thank you, Quinn." She didn't respond, and she didn't look up at him. After a moment she unplugged her curling iron and walked out of the door.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Hiram asked Rachel, walking into the living room with a salami sandwich wrapped in a napkin in his hand.

"Watching _When Harry Met Sally_," Rachel replied, briefly looking over her shoulder from her spot on the couch at her father.

"No, I mean why aren't you getting ready for the party?" Her father asked, taking a seat next to her.

"I don't think I'm going to go. Feeling a little under the weather, you know? You shouldn't be eating that, daddy."

"Feeling under the weather my ass," Hiram scoffed, taking a bite of his sandwich. "And I'm a grown man, I eat what I want!" He said through a mouthful.

"Dad would be unhappy."

"Well what your father doesn't know won't hurt him." They sat in silence, watching Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal stroll slowly through the park. "You should go to the party, Rachel."

"Why? I'd rather stay home with you." Rachel said, playfully rubbing her father's bald head.

"Well, as much as any parent loves to hear that, you're thirty-years-old, and I know that's a lie."

"I would never lie to you, daddy." Rachel said, faking precociousness.

"Darling, that may have worked when you were five, hell, it may have even worked when you were 16, but it's creepy at 30. Like, _Whatever Happened to Baby Jane_ level of creepy."

"You compared me to Joan Crawford. I've never been so pleased." Rachel said with a smirk.

"I was thinking more Bette Davis, my dear. My, if only we knew the monster we were creating thirty years ago," Hiram said, playfully, wrapping his arm around his daughter's shoulder. They enjoyed the movie in silence, Hiram sneaking bites of his sandwich every now and then. "Rachel, it's very rare that you keep things from your dad and me, but I know that there's something going on with you that you don't want to talk about." He looked down at his daughter, hoping for a response. "I don't know what this falling out is that you've had with Quinn, and it's obvious that you're not going to tell me or your dad anytime soon, but whatever it is pales in comparison to spending the evening with your oldest friends, many of whom you haven't seen in a year, and all of whom had a hand in getting you to where you are today."

"I did this all on my own." Rachel said, playfully grinning at her father.

"I'm going to ignore that," her father said, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV. "Go upstairs, Rachel, put on some clothes, get yo face did, yo hair did, and get out there," Hiram said, grinning. Rachel laughed at his fake accent.

"Okay," she smiled. "You're right, I shouldn't let Quinn get me down. I didn't for four years in high school, why start today?"

"That's the spirit, honey!"

* * *

"Santana, I swear if you don't stop complaining, your not getting any for a month once we get back to LA," Brittany snapped at her, adjusting Nico on her hip as they walked up the path toward the Hummel-Hudson's. They each had one child under one arm and a bag of gifts in the other. Santana was particularly struggling with a large Bloomingdale's bag that kept knocking her leg.

"That's an empty threat, Britt. I know you can't last a month anymore than I can."

"I'll just take care of myself."

"You won't be able to do that with the temptation of this smokin' hot body next to you in bed."

"I won't have to worry about it because _you_ will be sleeping on the couch." Brittany replied, pushing the doorbell. "I'm just asking you, Santana," Brittany sighed again, "to attempt to be pleasant for the duration of the evening."

Before Santana could complain anymore, Carol swung open the door.

"Santana! Brittany! It's wonderful to see you again! And, oh my god, is this Nico and Olivia? They've grown so much since last year."

"I know!" Brittany said, hugging Carol and then Burt. Santana followed.

"Let me take your coats," Carol said as they took off layers of unnecessary winter wear, so unused to the cold weather after years in LA. Santana handed Carol a bottle of wine and they nervously entered the house.

Now, it's not that Santana didn't like her fellow glee club members. On the contrary, she recognized Glee Club as a high point in her high school experience. She couldn't, however, escape the notion that they all still hated her. She knew that 12 years had passed since they said goodbye to McKinley, and that she spent much of her senior year making amends for the mistakes of the previous three. Something about being back in Lima always initially put her ill-at-ease, funneling her back to an insecure teenager who was convinced her world would crumble around her if she were honest about herself.

"You okay, Santana?" Brittany asked, concerned at how unusually long Santana had been silent.

"I'll be fine," Santana said, nuzzling into Olivia's head.

"How are my favorite lesbians doing?" Puck asked, approaching Brittany and Santana. "And my favorite lesbabies?" Brittany took Olivia from Santana, now cradling both children in her arms.

"Don't call them that, Puckerman." Santana said. "Where the f have you been, lately?" Before he could respond, Brittany had run off to the other side of the room to see Artie and Blaine, both children in her arms. Santana rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Puck. "I just assumed you realized what a pathetic existence you'd been living and checked into the Chateau Marmont to off yourself months ago. Britt said they would have called the police when they smelled your dead body, but you pretty much smell like a corpse anyway."

"Aw, I missed you too, Santana. And I've been around. Taking this precious time between jobs to make sure I keep my tan going by visiting the many tropical locations this fine world has to offer. Offering the exquisite services of the Puckerman to ladies around the globe. I've gone international."

"You missed Thanksgiving."

"So?"

"We _always_ do Thanksgiving."

"Well, I'm sorry that you've gotten all domesticated and shit, but I have a reputation to uphold and was busy wooing the beautiful ladies of Jamaica over Thanksgiving. You really should ditch the wifey and hit that shit up, Santana. You would have a fucking field day with these women. Second only to the beautiful women of Brazil, which I also recommend you put on your bucket list."

"You're such a dick, Puckerman.

"But I'm _your _dick, sweetheart," Puck said, wrapping his arm around Santana's shoulder. Santana threw his arm off of her.

"One: don't touch me. Two: don't ever call me sweetheart, or any weird pet name. Three: I _don't _have, need, or want a dick, Puckerman. Thank _God _I realized I am a lesbian."

"Looks like someone is still a little testy about spending time with the glee kids. Get over it, Santana! No one cares that you were a bitch in high school anymore!"

"I know. I'm fine, Puck," Santana said, scanning the room for Brittany and her children. "Just leave me alone, okay?" Santana looked up at him with fierce, yet wide eyes, and stormed away, arms tight across her chest.

* * *

"I don't want to go in, mom," Hannah said, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"I know you don't dear, but we go every year and you always have fun."

"No, I don't. The only kids my age are stupid Joni and Max. Everyone else are babies like Lily and Harper," Hannah huffed out, referring to Tina's daughter and Will's son.

"You know you always have fun with Joni and Max, baby girl," Justin said, pushing on the doorbell. The bell barely rang before Finn swung it open, his big grin still on his face.

"Quinn! Justin! Come in!" Finn said, ushering the group into the house. The adults shared the requisite cheek kisses and hugs and then wriggle the girls out of their winter gear. Quinn tried to ignore the icy glare Finn's wife always had on her as she said hello to their toddler.

"The Eagles are _killing_ it this year," Finn said to Justin, pulling him off to the side in what was sure to be an epic conversation about football. Her daughters all ran off to say hi to their favorite "aunts and uncles" and Quinn stood alone in the foyer. This was the kind of night where she definitely deserved a glass of wine.

* * *

Brittany watched Blaine skip off to help Rachel with the karaoke machine.

"Do you want to hold one of them?" Brittany asked Artie. "They're getting kind of heavy." She readjusted her grip on her wriggling toddlers. "They're starting to get more…_movey_…for their own good. I think Santana might have a heart attack. We thought we lost Nico the other day. He was in a cabinet with a pot on his head. Her mom's house isn't baby-proofed. Don't tell anyone I told you that. It makes us sound like bad moms. And we're not bad moms. _Our_ house is childproofed…and it was kind of cute. Maybe I should just get Santana." Artie smiled at Brittany's long rant.

"No, Britt, it's fine, I can hold one of them." Brittany handed Olivia to Artie and he playfully, if tentatively, bounced her up and down in his lap.

"She's beautiful, Brittany," Artie said, bouncing a giggling Olivia in his lap. "They're both beautiful. She looks just like you."

"I know. And this one," Brittany said, gesturing to her son, "somehow managed to get all of Santana's attitude without any of her genetics." Artie laughed. He was almost positive the baby was scowling at him.

"I can definitely see that."

* * *

"Rae!" Hannah squealed out, seeing Rachel attempting to set up a karaoke machine with Blaine.

"Hey, sweetheart," Rachel said, kneeling down to pull the little girl into a hug. "Is that the sweater I got you?" Rachel asked, pointing to the unicorn sweater Hannah was wearing. Hannah nodded rapidly.

"It's the best, Rachel!"

"Oh, I'm glad you like it, honey. You want to help me and Blaine set up this machine?"

"Well, I told Joni I'd play her new video game with her. But, what's it for? It looks like Lily's amp, and if that's what it is, I really don't want any part of it."

"No, it's a karaoke machine. It plays music so that you can sing to it." Hannah's eyes lit up.

"Then I'm definitely in!" Hannah said, grinning toothily up at Rachel. Rachel laughed and ruffled the little girl's hair.

* * *

Santana lingered by herself in the corner, playing with a carrot. She considered going over to talk to Mercedes and Tina, but just as she was about to move, Lauren Zizes approached them. There was no way she was going over there now. Zizes still hated her. She scanned the room. Quinn was staring longingly at Rachel and Justin was talking to Mike but staring sadly at Quinn and there was no way Santana wanted to deal with that can of worms right now. Rachel appeared to be singing while Blaine beat boxed and set up the karaoke machine. Joni, Hannah and Max danced excitedly around them. There was no way she was touching that hot mess of performers with a six foot pole. Karofsky, Karofsky's boyfriend, and Sam were laughing about something that was probably too gay boy for Santana's taste. Artie and Brittany were laughing, while Artie bounced her daughter up and down in his lap.

"You really have to move past this anger toward Artie, Santana," Kurt said approaching Santana from behind.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Porcelain."

"Well, you've been standing here pretending to eat this carrot and sending daggers in their direction for the last 15 minutes."

"Whatever. I have a right to be mad. He's the only person she ever loved other than me. I've never loved anyone other than Brittany."

"I think that's the most honest you have ever been with me, Mrs. Lopez-Pierce." Kurt said smugly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It's Pierce-Lopez. And everyone's right. Having children is making me soft."

"Look, Santana, can we be real here? Brittany married _you_. She had children with _you._ And, if I'm not mistaken, she continued sleeping with you _while _she was dating Artie, so their relationship never could have meant that much to her." Santana shrugged. "So why don't you make nice? I'm sure Brittany would appreciate it."

"I don't want to."

"Are you seven, Santana? Look, I know these things aren't the easiest for you, especially being around members of the glee club who haven't had the opportunity to see you grow and change over the last twelve years," Kurt said, glancing over at Lauren. "But no one expects you to be the same Santana from McKinley. You need to let that go, and let them all see the new you. You're not Santana Lopez, closeted Cheerio bitch anymore. Frankly, Santana, you're the only one holding on to that."

"That was weirdly accurate, Porcelain." Santana said, raising her eyebrows at Kurt.

"Well, you may or may not have drunkenly cried to me about your innermost high school feelings last New Years Eve, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez," Kurt said, smirking.

"I hate my life," Santana said.

"No, you don't, you love your life. Your life is pretty awesome."

"True."

"So, go make nice with Artie over there."

"I'll think about it," Santana said.

* * *

"Hey, mama, why you hiding out back here?" Mercedes asked, approaching Quinn.

"I should be calling _you_ mama, these days. On a scale from one to ten, how excited are you guys right now?" Quinn asked, gently placing a hand on Mercedes' baby bump.

"Ten." Mercedes replied, her grin as big as it could be. "So, now you tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how painful is it going to be."

"It's a piece of cake," Quinn said, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, I've done it four times."

"Oh, girl, why do you even _try_ lying to me anymore?" Quinn laughed softly.

"Okay, so maybe it hurts a little."

"Brittany told me it was like pulling a football out of your nose. She said it felt like her vagina was being ripped into a million pieces and that when they gave her the episiotomy she prayed for death and that she would at least get to see Santana in heaven. She said it was the first time she managed to stay awake while praying but it was only because her body was being torn apart in the most violent manner imaginable. She also told me she caused three hairline fractures on Santana's left hand and a complete break on Santana's third metacarpal so Santana's assistant had to do the typing for her for a month." Quinn couldn't contain her smile as Mercedes finished her rant.

"She's right," Quinn said, quietly. "It does feel like all of those things. You'll probably cry and scream and yell at your husband for doing this to you. But, after all the pain, the doctor will hand you this beautiful baby that you've been growing inside of you for nine months and you'll think to yourself that you'd go through it all again, and ten-fold, if it means you can bring this beautiful life into the world."

"That's what Brittany said too. She told me that all of that pain didn't matter. She never felt so whole, so in a place of understanding with the world as the moment she watched Santana sit down on her hospital bed with their children in her arms."

"Their family," Quinn said, softly.

"Yeah. Their family. Now, tell me, Quinn, what's going on with your family?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, lucky I don't have any place to be."

* * *

"Hi, Artie. It's nice to see you." Santana said, wrapping her arm around Brittany's waist.

"Santana! It's really nice to see you too!" Artie said, nervously adjusting his glasses.

"Mami!" Olivia whined from Artie's lap. Santana waggled her fingers at her daughter.

"Hey, baby!" Santana said. "You having fun with Uncle Artie?" Olivia nodded.

"Mami, mami, mami!" Olivia continued to whine. "Up! Up! Boobs!" Santana blushed. Artie laughed out loud.

"You know it, girl," he said, trying to high-five the baby.

"Ugh, Artie, give me my daughter. This is what I get for trying to play nice."

"Hey, she said it, not me."

"That's fair, I guess." Santana replied, still mildly appalled at her childrens' limited vocabulary,

"How's life?" She asked, picking up her daughter.

"Oh, it's really great, thanks for asking! I'm still working as an engineer on set design in New York. It's great because I get to combine my love of science and the stage."

"And how are things with the wifey?"

"They're great, Santana. How's lawyering your way around Los Angeles?"

"Stressful, as always, but fulfilling. It's nice to get to yell at people and get paid for it." The three sat in awkward silence. "Well, I told Kurt I'd help him get the karaoke machine out, but it was nice talking to you, Artie," Santana said, leaving to find a smirking Kurt.

"Wow." Artie said. "I think that is the most Santana has ever spoken to me."

"She hates to admit it, but having children has made her soft."

"Are you happy, Brittany?" Artie asked, bouncing Olivia on his lap.

"I am. Happier than I thought was possible. Are you?" Artie nodded.

"Definitely."

"That's all that matters then, right?"

"Definitely," Brittany reiterated.

* * *

"Santana! I've been looking for you all night!" Dave said, pulling Santana into a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. Santana immediately began slapping and screaming at him.

"Just because you're an ogre, Dave, does _not_ mean you are allowed to pick me up!"

"I just missed you! And you're so _tiny_." Dave said, placing her back down and straightening his salmon colored tie.

"You know how I feel about you calling me tiny." Santana crossed her arms in front of her chest. She nodded her head over to the confused looking man next to him.

"I'm sorry, Santana, this is my boyfriend, Jeffrey, Jeffrey, this is my ex-girlfriend, Santana." Santana rolled her eyes, and Jeffrey raised his eyebrows at her.

"Ex-girlfriend. Nice one, Karofsky." She scoffed at him. "Let me clarify," she said, touching Jeffrey's forearm, "we were each other's beards. So we could win prom king and queen. So, that I could get my best friend to dump her boyfriend and date me."

"And so Santana, here, wouldn't out me. She was such a _sweetheart_ in high school, weren't you, _Tana_?"

"Irrelevant detail, _David,_" she said. She really didn't need to hear about the questionable things she had done in high school right now.

"Oh, don't worry, girl, I understand. We _all _do things we're not proud of when we're trapped in that proverbial closet." Jeffrey said. Santana cracked a small smile at him.

"You don't have to tell me." Santana replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Did it work? Did she dump her boyfriend?"

"No. At least not then. I didn't win prom queen, Dave won king, Kurt," Santana said, gesturing over to where Kurt and Sam seemed involved in a serious conversation, "won queen, and I stayed in the closet."

"I'm assuming you're out now, though?" Jeffrey asked, looking a little concerned. Dave put his arm around Jeffrey's shoulder.

"You see that hot blond talking to the pregnant black girl and the guy in the wheelchair?"

"The one with the toddlers?" Karofsky nodded.

"That's the best friend. Brittany." Jeffrey winced at Santana.

"I'm sorry, girl, that must be hard, seeing her here. She's _smokin'_ hot." Santana smirked and Karofsky rolled his eyes and laughed.

"It's not rough, honey," he said to Jeffrey, "they've been married for, what is it now, Santana, five years?" Santana nodded. "Together, officially, for 13, and those are their twins."

"Nicolas and Olivia," Santana interjected, looking proudly at her babies.

"And more on the way, right, Santana?" Santana's eyes slowly widened with disbelief.

"Jesus! What is wrong with you people? You'd think, thirty-years-old, you'd learn to stop gossiping like a bunch of twelve-year-olds. And _no,_ I'm not pregnant, Dave. Who said something? Was it Quinn? You don't need to tell me, I know it was that bitch." Karofsky and Jeffrey were doubled over laughing.

"No one said anything, Santana." Karofsky said as he gasped for breath through his laughter. "I was just speculating. Although, thank god I live across the country from you because I do not want to be around you pregnant."

"I don't know why I ever dated you."

"I was a good beard." They made eye contact and grinned.

"Yeah, you were kind of the best." Santana replied, enjoying her moment with Dave. "Now, tell me, Jeffrey, how did you meet Mr. Karofsky, here?"

* * *

Quinn stood alone in the corner of the living room, absentmindedly dipping her celery into some ranch dressing over and over again. Mercedes had been pulled from their conversation by Brittany and Artie. Justin was deep in conversation with Mike, Puck, and Finn, probably talking football, with Lily clinging to his leg. Santana was laughing with Karofsky and his boyfriend off in the opposite corner. Hannah was singing karaoke on the other side of the room with Blaine and Rachel. Quinn sighed out loud as she watched Santana talk with Karofsky. Quinn decided to walk into the kitchen, in an attempt to get some solace from the group.

The thing was, they had all been a little mean in high school. Sure, people like her and Santana bore the brunt of the blame. Dave had a lot of apologizing to do before he finally was redeemed in the eyes of the glee club. But, the fact was, they all had been mean, in their small ways. Brittany played dumb to manipulate Rachel. Rachel called Santana a stripper and everyone else called her Satan. They all, also, had their moment of redemption. All except Quinn, it seemed. Or maybe she was just feeling down on herself again. Dr. Phillips would tell her not to project her feelings into the minds of the others, but she couldn't help but feel that everyone in that room thought she was a heartless bitch. She poured herself a glass of wine and shut her eyes, trying to prepare herself to go back out there.

* * *

"It's just so wonderful to see you all every year, it really means so much to me," Mr. Schuester said, his arm around Emma's waist.

"You too, Mr. Schue," Mercedes replied, letting her head rest on her husband's shoulder.

"Guys, you really have to stop calling me Mr. Schue. If my math is correct, most of you should be thirty by now?"

"Ugh, don't remind us," Santana said, smiling.

"I'm just saying, it's well past time you start calling me Will."

"You'll always be Mr. Schue to us, though," Rachel pointed out. Mr. Schuester put his hands up to his chest.

"You know, it just means so much to a teacher to see his students grow and evolve and become young adults. Mercedes here with a successful career in the music industry, Rachel, a star on Broadway and now in film, Kurt, bringing his fashion to the world. Who here doesn't think it feels like just yesterday that Santana and Brittany were shyly singing to one another in our little choir room," he said, gesturing over to the two women, each holding a child in their arms. Santana smiled shyly at Brittany and then at the group. "And now, here they are, a successful lawyer and dancer, married, with two beautiful children."

"It really is amazing. I mean, who knew Santana had anything but bitch in her?" Mercedes said laughing.

"I know," Sam said through laughter, "I don't think _anyone_ would have imagined when she was mercilessly teasing us in that choir room that she would be one of the first to become doting mother of two." Santana put on her work smile, what used to be her Cheerios smile, as they laughed about her bitchy behavior in high school. She could feel Brittany trying to catch her eye, but she knew if she looked she would not be able to keep the smile up, so she kept her eyes focused on the ground as they laughed about high school.

"Well, as amusing as it is to relive Santana before she got all soft on us, I think I'm going to get a refill of that delicious wine Noah brought. Does anyone need anything?" Rachel asked. Everyone shook their head and she left for the kitchen.

* * *

"Hey," Rachel said as she walked into the kitchen, her glass of wine firmly gripped in her fist. She paused, visibly unsure whether or not she should continue into the room.

"Hi, Rachel," Quinn said softly through a smile.

"What are you doing in here? Everyone is in the living room, reliving Santana's bitch days."

"I'm sure she's really enjoying that." Quinn said softly, the tinge of sarcasm barely evident in her voice.

"Have you tried this wine, Quinn? Noah brought it back from Argentina," she said as she topped off her glass. "He's been quite the globetrotter lately. It's a Malbec. As you know, I'm generally more of a white wine drinker myself," Rachel paused briefly to take a sip from her glass, "but I might have to make an exception for this. Reds have, what is it called? That make you sneeze?"

"Sulfites," Quinn said, barely containing a small smirk at Rachel's rant.

"That's right. Reds have more sulfites. They make me sneeze and I can't really work if I'm congested so I tend to avoid them." Rachel finished taking a sip from her glass.

"Well, I haven't tried Puck's wine yet," Quinn said, not sure where to go from here in their conversation. They stood in silence for a moment.

"I'm really sorry about last night." Rachel said, simply.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Rach," Quinn replied, looking into her own wine glass as she swirled the red liquid around in circles. "You were right. I had no right to tell you I missed you. I had my chance, and I threw it away. I made a lot of mistakes, Rachel." Quinn said, finally looking up to meet Rachel's eyes. "I _make _a lot of mistakes. I…I feel bad for myself, a lot of the time, and I use it as an excuse to treat other people poorly. I'm trying to not do that anymore. So, I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm sorry for making you think you didn't matter to me as much as you did."

"It's okay, Quinn. I understand. You have a family, you have other people to think about."

"It's not okay, Rachel!" Quinn said, her voice cracking midway through her sentence. "You've always put up with my bullshit. You supported me while I was pregnant with Beth. I _slapped_ you at our Junior Prom and you dabbed away _my _tears. You have no reason to be kind to me, yet you always are, and, yeah, you can be really selfish and annoying when it comes to the professional stuff, but when it comes to the personal stuff, you never put yourself first."

"Stop, Quinn. Just stop."

"No, you need to hear this. You are a beautiful person, Rachel, inside and out. _You _are the most beautiful girl I have ever met. I trampled all over that, and I'm sorry." Quinn took another sip from her glass of wine, before slamming it on the counter. Rachel slowly walked closer to her, grasping her wrist with her free hand.

"Quinn, stop apologizing. I _see _you. I always have." She used her other hand to wipe a stray tear that had fallen down Quinn's cheek. "This is why we have these moments in the bathroom at prom, at Brittany and Santana's wedding. You don't have to apologize to me. I know that you've been searching for…for _something_, I don't know what, but something that will make you feel whole." Rachel looked up at her, her eyes wide and glistening. Quinn wasn't sure if it was the wine, or Rachel's words, or her newfound realization that she loved her, but she felt out of control, as though her body were moving independently of her mind and she leaned down toward Rachel so their lips were barely centimeters apart from one another.

"You know what you said last night, about Santana and Brittany's house? You're my home too, Rachel. I think you always have been, I just couldn't let myself feel it." They were so close that Quinn could feel Rachel take a breath in at her statement. Quinn knew it was now or never and leaned in, letting her lips softly graze Rachel's, the kiss slow and gentle, just savoring the feeling of Chapstick and lip gloss press against one another. It was soft, and sweet. Rachel sucked in a breath of air and put her hands gently on Quinn's waist, pulling their hips flush together and flicked her tongue out gently into Quinn's mouth. She couldn't contain her moan as she tasted Quinn's breath and wine and lip gloss mixed into one. The sound spurred Quinn on, she could somehow feel it vibrating from her mouth to every nerve ending in her body and suddenly she didn't care that they were at a party with all of their friends, that her ex-husband was a room away, or that her children could run in at any moment. All that mattered was Rachel, pressed against her, so soft and so sweet and so _Rachel_ and she couldn't think past it. She rotated their bodies so that Rachel was pressed against the counter and gently leaned into her as they kissed, slowly sliding her thigh in between Rachel's legs and smiling into their kiss as Rachel gasped at the sensation. She rocked her hips slowly into Rachel's as their kisses became more passionate, sloppier, as tongues traveled further into mouths and then down necks and collarbones and sternums. She placed her hands on Rachel's hips, pulling them toward her as she thrust her thigh in between Rachel's legs again.

"We can't do this here," Rachel gasped in Quinn's ear, her breath heavy and a small groan erupting in the middle of her sentence.

"I know," Quinn whispered back, maintaining the rhythm of her hips as she whispered into Rachel's ear. "I can't help it though. I can't stop thinking about you. You're all I think about it." She groaned out, sucking gently on Rachel's earlobe. "You're what I think about when I dream at night, and I wake up so—so…"

"Stop it, Quinn. You have to stop."

"I can't stop. I can feel you through your jeans."

"This isn't right." Rachel stammered, meekly, knowing that she was too turned on to really say no to Quinn, and knowing that she was probably going to come undone in any moment, through her jeans, in the Hudson-Hummel kitchen.

"I need to hear you, Rachel. I know you're close," Quinn said, applying more pressure with her thigh to the damp spot in Rachel's jeans.

"This isn't right, Quinn. Anyone could walk in," Rachel replied, shifting her hips up so that she was practically riding her thigh, feeling her wetness slide up and down the friction of Quinn's leg. "I don't want to do this like…this…" she whispered in Quinn's ear. "This isn't how it's supposed to be."

"I can't, Rachel. This is all I have."

"I want you to make love to me," Rachel panted, knowing that a few more thrusts and she'd come undone, fully clothed, in this kitchen.

"I am making love to you. I am. Please, Rachel, please." Quinn gasped out, holding Rachel's hips in place so that she couldn't thrust against her anymore and tensed her own thigh so that it pressed hard through the layers of clothing in between Rachel's leg. Rachel leaned into Quinn's shoulder, biting her hard to conceal her moan as Quinn thrust again. Rachel's thighs trembled forcefully, squeezing against Quinn's thigh as she let out a deep groan.

* * *

"Where are Rachel and Quinn?" Tina asked, after a comfortable silence had fallen over the group. Justin glared into his beer and Brittany shared a knowing look with Santana, who currently was cradling their two sleeping toddlers in her lap. The two also didn't miss the look on Justin's face, Brittany quickly jumping in to change the subject.

"Well, I think it's time I get my three sleepyheads home," Brittany said, gesturing to Santana and the twins. Santana rolled her eyes as the rest of the club smirked at her.

"Leaving already?" Quinn asked, entering the room. Her cheeks had a slight flush to them as she leaned in the doorway.

"Mhmm," Santana said, nuzzling her face into Nico's head. "Sorry you missed so much of the 'Brittany and Santana' portion of the party," she added, using air quotes.

"I think I see enough of the Pierce-Lopez's in LA," Quinn said. She tried to ignore the glare Justin was holding as he observed Quinn and Santana's banter. Brittany helped Santana off of the couch and the two of them hugged everyone goodbye and collected their belongings and their gifts.

"You best be telling me what went on here when we get back to LA, Quinnie," Santana whispered into Quinn's ear as she hugged her goodbye.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, _Tana-Banana_, Quinn replied, her glare felt through Santana's ear. Santana scoffed.

"You use that name, I know you're trying to distract me, bitch. Let's do lunch when I get back."

"Fine."  
"Fine."

"Love you, Q!" Santana yelled, turning her fake, chipper, voice on." Goodbye, everyone!"

The rest of the glee club stayed around for a few hours, rehashing old times and catching up on the new. It wasn't long before Mercedes has a sudden late night bought of morning sickness and the kids slowly started falling asleep and the club decided to call it a night.

"It was lovely seeing everyone," Quinn said from the doorway as Justin held a sleeping Lily and Harper. "I'll see you at Britt and Santana's New Years Eve party, right?" Quinn asked Rachel nonchalantly.

"I'm going to be in New York over New Years," Rachel said. "You know, back at home base, for now."

"Of course," Quinn said, "of course, I'm sorry for being presumptuous," Quinn said.

"Not at all, Quinn. It was lovely seeing you," she finished, pushing her way out of the house. "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around Rachel," Quinn said softly as Rachel quickly walked down the path out of the house. "You ready to go Justin?" She asked her ex-husband as she shifted a grip on a sleeping Harper. He simply nodded and they left down the pathway as well.

* * *

"That wasn't so bad, was it, Santana?" Brittany asked her wife into the dark of her bedroom. She reached across the dark to touch her Santana's soft cheek. It was their fourth consecutive night in Santana's childhood bedroom and that wasn't making her feel much better.

"It was pretty bad, Britt. It's always pretty bad."

"I don't understand why, sweetheart."

"Maybe everyone else has gotten over what a bitch I was in high school, but I haven't. I want them to understand why..." Santana choked back a sob, prompting Brittany to pull her tightly into her own body. "I want them to understand," she began, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control everything she felt was rushing forth. "I _need_ them to understand that I was so sad, and so angry, and so scared, that it made me too selfish to understand what I was doing to them, that my actions had consequences. Or maybe it just made me too selfish to care about those consequences. I was scared, Britt. I would have given my life then to keep my secret safe."

"They do understand, honey," Brittany said, kissing at the tears flowing down Santana's cheeks.

"I don't know that they do. I will always feel bad, as though my fucked up reasoning for behaving the way I did is just an excuse, and that none of them will see me for who I am today."

"They do, honey. You just have to let them." Brittany held Santana, gently rubbing her back as Santana's breathing slowly evened out.

"Thank you, Britt."

"For what? You're still crying."

"For loving me. Unconditionally."

"Always." They lay in silence, Brittany absentmindedly rubbing her thumb along Santana's cheekbone, their lips not touching, but close enough to breathe one another in.

"Rachel and Quinn totally got it on tonight," Santana whispered, after her tears had stopped and her breath had resumed some level of normalcy.

"No way." Brittany smiled into her wife's lips. "Too many glee kids around. Justin. It would have been too risky." Brittany said sleepily.

"They totally had that sticky, flushed, 'we just had awesome lesbian sex' look. Trust me, I know it."

"I know you do," Brittany said, pulling Santana in for a kiss. "But there's no way, it was just too risky."

"I wouldn't have put it past us, five years ago," Santana said.

"Mhmm," Brittany replied, kissing Santana with a little more urgency this time.

"Are we lame now, Britt?"

"What are you talking about?" Brittany said, trying to pull Santana into another kiss.

"We're like 'moms' now, or something. We don't do crazy things like have sex at a glee club party."

"Quinn had sex at a glee club party and she's a mom."

"So, you _do _think Quinn and Rachel had sex, huh, Britt?" Santana said, smirking as Brittany pulled her in for another kiss.

"I really don't want to think about our best friends having sex right now," Brittany replied.

"What do you want to think about, Britt-Britt?"

"Another pair of hot, lesbian, McKinley High alumni having sex," Brittany husked into Santana's ear. Santana groaned and pressed her lips against Brittany's.

"Wait a second," Santana said, her breath heavy as she pulled away from Brittany's lips. "You think Quinn and Rachel are hot."

"Obviously they're hot," Brittany said, smiling into Santana's lips. "But, that's not what I'm thinking about right now. So, please, shut up, and kiss me, Santana."

"Anything you want, Ms. Brittany," Santana said, kissing her wife's lips yet again.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **Again, I'm sorry for the long wait between updates. I really struggled with this chapter, thus it took longer than normal to get up. I hope you enjoy it though. I also think I may have finally figured out tumblr (after months of asking you guys how it works), so if anyone wants to follow me, here it is: seahorsesantana dot tumblr dot com

On a related note, the song referenced at the end of the chapter will be up there.

I hope you enjoy this, it's a little different from other chapters!

* * *

Quinn checks the time on the microwave. She has to be at Santana's in an hour. The sky is blue outside, exceptionally blue for LA, without a hint of smog or clouds. All the rain they've had this winter finally cleared out all the pollution. Temporarily, but Quinn knows to appreciate it when she can. Winter has plugged on and she's not sure when it began or when it will end, but she knows that it's about sixty degrees outside and that after 12 years in this city she's not going to be comfortable without a scarf and a jacket. Quinn could barely piece together how the last three months had passed so quickly. It was another, of the many, curses of adulthood. Time was moving infinitely faster than Quinn could keep up with. She knows that they returned to LA a few days after the Glee Club party. It rained for 6 days in a row and the city struggled to cope with the unusual weather. Brittany and Santana had a New Years Eve party. Kurt and Sam flirted shamelessly, Mercedes felt the baby kick for the first time, Puck tried to kiss her at midnight, and Rachel was in New York for New Years. Not that Quinn really noticed.

Quinn talked in circles to her therapist. Nothing new was happening so there was nothing new to say. Or maybe, in this moment without drama, she really had everything to say. She didn't know. All she knew is that they talked about Beth, her failed relationships, her sexuality, Rachel, her family, and back to Beth again. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

She wrote a lot, but she didn't know what to do with her stories once they were finished. Santana talked her ear off about copyrighting and the library of Congress and the WGA, but Quinn just wasn't sure she was ready to put her words out in the world yet. She talked to her therapist about this too, but it just resulted in a conversation about Quinn's insecurities, her sexuality, her failed relationships, and back to her family again. She knew she wasn't ready to publish her words, just yet.

Quinn didn't know what she was ready for. All this time had passed, and nothing really had changed. She was still in the middle of divorce proceedings with Justin, trying to divvy up their assets and child support and spousal support and custody decisions. If she had it her way, she wouldn't take anything from him, and just get it over with. It was painful. No matter which way she looked at it, she didn't want to see the man she first fell in love with at a frat party, who gave her three, beautiful children, who had, in many ways, become one of her best friends before everything they had worked so hard to build crumbled around them, once a week with lawyers present deciding who actually owns that Range Rover, the house in Big Bear, the house in LA. She didn't want to listen to her lawyer justify the monies she was owed for her loving him and him failing her. The reality, however, was that Quinn was thirty, had three children, and zero work experience or marketable skills, so without Justin's help, she would have nothing. She knew she was a lot of things, but she wasn't stupid, and that she was going to either be reliant on him or the state for the time being, and he seemed like the better option. Justin called her on Valentine's Day. They talked for an hour, laughing about past Valentine's Days, and walking in on Santana and Brittany in college, and failed reservations, and singing telegrams delivered to pro football practices. She worried to Dr. Phillips about enjoying the conversation, about feeling lonely and making stupid decisions. Dr. Phillips assured her that she has twelve years of history and three children with Justin; they will always have a relationship and that people get lonely sometimes. She was only human. It was being lonely that got her knocked up the first time, Quinn noted. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

Sometimes she wonders where she would be if someone had sat her down in high school and forced her to talk about her feelings and her problems like this. She probably would have refused the offer, and, depending on the stage of high school, threatened to get the Skanks on them, on manipulated her way into ruining their life. Still, she can't help but wonder.

She and Puck babysat Nico and Olivia for two days over Valentine's Day weekend. Quinn didn't think she was capable of watching 5 kids on her own. She was afraid to call Rachel for help, and Mercedes was busy preparing for her own child. The fact was that all of her other Los Angeles friends had their own lives and families and loves to deal with on Valentine's Day. Puck, of course, was stone-cold single, as always. Santana booked a cabin for her and Brittany in Big Sur, but it rained all weekend, and Santana had become too much of an Angeleno for her own good and was afraid to drive up the PCH (even though she'd never admit that) in the downpour, so they stayed at their house all weekend. Quinn's pretty sure they just had sex for two days in Silverlake, and her daughters' knowing smirks at Brittany and Santana's glow reaffirmed her suspicions. The one time she and Puck went out together some paparazzi found them and they made the tabloids. Not the headlines, but in the first few pages, at least. _Noah Puckerman finds romance with Footballer's ex. _The stories included snapped images of them leaving the Coffee Bean by the Albertsons in Los Feliz. Quinn lauged when she saw the magazine the next week, ironically, while in line at the same Albertsons. She wonders what the tabloids would do with the truth. _Footballer's ex getting coffee with high school flame who fathered her illegitimate child and is now an action star but she's in love with up and comer Rachel Berry, whom she also attended high school with and is now questioning her sexuality. _They probably wouldn't sell as many magazines with that headline. Or maybe they'd sell more. Twelve years of living in this town and she still didn't really understand the entertainment industry. There's a lot she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand how she could have been around this many gay people for this long and not realized that she was gay. Or bisexual. Or questioning. Or whatever. The point is that Santana is hot and Brittany is hot and they had been her hot lesbian friends for most of her life and she never realized before that she thought that they were hot. And that makes her wonder about her sanity. Or if her feelings for Rachel are even real at all. And it starts her back at the beginning of her rant. Dr. Phillips would tell her to not obsess about what or how or why she is and think about how to make herself happy in the future. It's getting easier to do that. It's not perfect, but it's getting easier.

* * *

Santana doesn't know what happened to the winter. It feels like she was in Lima yesterday, but really three months have passed and Quinn is supposed to come over to help her paint and she can't even remember when construction was finished or when she quit her job or what she had for dinner last night. Scratch that. Her mother and Brittany made chicken enchiladas for dinner last night and they were delicious. That's neither here nor there now, though. Her babies are 18 months old, and she knows that if she starts thinking about their stumble-run through the house, their demands for "mas aguacate, y mami, up up!" that she'll start crying again and thinking back to when she first held their tiny little bodies in her arms and they just gaped back at her with big brown eyes and toothless mouths. She knows that New Years Eve came and went. Her midnight kiss with Britt would have been perfect had she not caught Quinn slapping Puck out of the corner of her eye and inadvertently broken down laughing, Brittany's lips still on her own. It rained for days. She's convinced it rained the entire month of January and she kept an umbrella in her car and in the house and wore galoshes everywhere because, _god_, Santana hates the rain and hates getting her weave wet, or anything wet, really. When she explained this to Quinn and Brittany they both laughed for a good fifteen minutes. For once, she was the last one in on the joke. A dirty joke, at that.

She knows that Quinn and Puck babysat for her and Britt over Valentine's Day. She couldn't help the fleeting thought about Beth that crossed her mind when she saw the two of them together with the five children. Beth would be 18 in four years, and Santana wondered if she would come looking for her parents. She and Brittany, however, did not get out of Los Angeles that weekend. After a month of planning for Big Sur, the rain was too heavy to risk the drive. Brittany called her a pussy, but Santana just kept reminding her that Noah Puckerman was ill-equipped to raise their children if their car plummeted off the 1 and into the ocean. It didn't take Brittany that long to agree with Santana, and Santana was pretty sure that weekend in their own, newly renovated, child-free home in Silverlake rivaled their honeymoon in Hawaii. It definitely beat their "we live without our parents for the first time" college sex. And, obviously, their high school sex was awesome, because their sex has always been awesome, but it was all closeted and quiet back then, and it took Santana forever to even _call_ it sex. Maybe female sexuality really did peak in the thirties. If Valentines Day was any indication, Santana was pretty damn excited that she got nine more years of it. Santana was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

* * *

"Bitch, what the fuck have you been doing up there all this time? It's fucking freezing out here." Quinn said, storming into the front of the house.

"Jesus, Q, what's with the mouth? There are children here," Santana replied.

"Oh, please, I know your kids are out with your mother and Brittany, like there are any secrets around here. I'm swearing because I'm fucking cold, Santana, and don't pretend like you don't understand, you're in that lesbian-ass afghan and weird hippie-lesbian-granola pants and its sixty degrees outside. What even are those pants? You look like a cross between a homeless sheep herder and a bong seller in Venice."

"Whatever. I'm cold and Brittany told me to be nice to you since you're helping me so I'm going to try to, so don't push my buttons. And I like this afghan. Britt got it for me when she was touring with that dance troupe through Latin America a few years ago."

"So, I should think it's less lesbian because your wife got it for you?"

"Fuck you, Fabray."

"Also, I hated you on that trip. That was the one, right after you guys got married, right? Like a year later? You were always moping around my house, crying about Britt, and Harper was a baby and I just didn't have time for two of you crying on my shoulder all day long."

Santana walked into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, knowing that it was probably part of the reason Quinn was being so annoying. Quinn sat down at the kitchen island, resting her chin in her hands.

"So, the girls are with Justin this weekend?" Santana asked, nonchalantly as the water heater slowly began bubbling.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Can we _not _talk about it? I really don't need to think anymore about the broken-home I'm creating for my children."

"Yeah, I get it, Q. You don't want to talk. You don't want to talk about Justin, you don't want to talk about the girls, God forbid I bring up the forbidden 'R' word."

"Can we please just get to whatever it is you brought me here for?" Quinn asked, cutting Santana off.

"She's like, literally, forbidden fruit. Get it? Berry?"

"Shut. Up. Why am I here, Santana?"

"Well, I knew this was only your second weekend without the girls, and I thought maybe you could use something to get your mind off of it. Plus, I need to finish the trim in Nico's room and we're repainting my mother's room. Apparently she hates the color blue. How I lived with her for 18 years and never realized this fact is beyond me, the point is that she wants it a light lavender and I'm tired of paying people for shit I could easily be doing myself."

"Okay, then lets get going." Santana slowly pressed on the plunger on their French Press.

"Okay, let me just get you some coffee. Maybe, then, you'll stop being such a bitch."

* * *

They worked in virtual silence as Santana popped the lids on the paint cans and taped around the window frames and laid plastic on the ground. They had actively been painting for fifteen minutes or so before Santana finally opened her mouth.

"I know what your problem is, Q."

"Fuck, Santana. Who said I had a problem? I knew this was just a ploy to get me to talk to you."

"You're going through a high-profile divorce, you're in love with an annoying hobbit we went to high school with, who happens to be a woman, you're having a crisis of sexuality, and you're trying to raise three girls on your own. You _must_ have something to talk about.."

"Listen, jugs,"

"Let me stop you right there, Fabray,' Santana said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and gesturing at Quinn with her paintbrush. "Exhibit A of your ongoing crisis of sexuality. You've had a lot of nasty nicknames for me in your lifetime, but never before have they been about my boobs. I know I'm well-endowed,"

"Enhanced, actually. Endowed suggests that you _naturally_ have big tits."

"Regardless, you noticed, Fabray. And you've been talking about them! And don't think I haven't noticed you checking out my cleavage whenever I wear a low cut dress."

"Well maybe if you weren't flaunting them for the world to see!"

"Too much to resist, huh?"

"You never stop, do you? Just pushing my buttons, nitpicking at me…"

"Look, Quinn. You would _never_ let me pull the kind of bullshit you're doing right now. I've stood by for _months_ while you pine after Rachel, continued that sham of a marriage, flailed around trying to be heterosexual, and you know what, I'm done. I'm going to tell you what I should have told you 6 months ago, instead of coddling you like you were one of my toddlers. You _need_ to grow up, Quinn Fabray."

"Fuck you, Santana."

"No, thank you, I'm married."

"I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. You're going to hear me out, if only because I've heard you out so many times in the last fifteen years or so."

"Fine. When you're done, I'm leaving."

"You want things to be easy. I don't blame you. I see the way you look at me and Britts. We're adorable, and our kids are fucking perfect, and when people talk about us it's all rainbows and unicorns and fucking adorable Brittany and Santana."

"Okay, what's your point here, Santana?"

"My point, _Fabray_, is that it took a fuck-ton of work to get here. _You_ of all people should know that. You _know_ that I didn't wake up one day at sixteen and say, 'oh my, well, I just might be a lesbian. Why don't I go ask my best friend is she wants to share sweet lady kisses?'" Quinn snickered at Santana's sarcasm. "I had to take risks, and make decisions I wasn't sure I was ready to make, and fight to get to this point. Nothing is fucking perfect, Quinn. You're in love with a hobbit, an annoying, loud girl hobbit with a freakishly large nose, and you won't do anything about it until you figure it out, because in the world of Quinn Fabray, you won't even do lesbianism half-assed. You didn't end things with your husband until you had no choice, and you won't just take the plunge with Berry until you know exactly how you feel. Well, maybe you won't know exactly how you feel. Maybe, you're just now discovering the hotness that is the Pierce-Lopez's that has surrounded you all your life, I understand that. Maybe you still think you like dick once and awhile, I'll never understand that. It's _okay_ if your sexuality isn't cut and dry. Remember when Britts had a thing for that transguy when we were in our early twenties? Remember when Rachel was in love with Finn? When Blaine thought he might have feelings for Rachel? Sexuality is complicated, Quinn. But you can't dry hump Rachel in the kitchen at a party in some absurd attempt to release your pent up lesbianism and then yell at me about calling you out on your bullshit."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you about that."

"It doesn't matter whether you told me or not. What matters is that you're never going to get anywhere in this fucked up world until you realize that not everything is going to be perfect and planned and wonderful. Sometimes you have to take risks to get what you want and see where it will take you. And before you interrupt with 'what if she doesn't want me' bullshit, let me intervene. So, the fuck, what, if she doesn't want you? First of all, she's made it more than clear that she does want you. Second of all, what do you have to lose? You two haven't spoken in _months_. What do you have now, asides from your daughters, an empty bed, and a few too many glasses of wine when that loneliness gets to be a little too much?"

"You're a bitch, Santana, you know that?" Quinn said, standing up and throwing her paint roller on the ground. "You'd like to think that you've changed since high school, but you're still just that bitchy teenager bringing everyone around you down."

"No, I'm not, Quinn. I can say that because I _know_ myself well enough to know that this is not be 'bringing you down', as you say. I _was _you, Quinn, and you forget that. I was confused, and fucking Puck, and fucking Finn, and dating Sam, and refusing to deal with what I didn't understand. The difference is that I grew up. I learned that life is hard and that I had to either do what I want or be unhappy waiting for something to magically change."

"I'm leaving."

"Fine, leave. But leave knowing that I'm telling you the truth. There will _always_ be shit to deal with. You have to learn to cope with what life throws you or you're not going to be able to function at all."

"It's easy for you to say that," Quinn said from the doorway of the bedroom. "You have the wife, and the kids, and the career and everything is perfect for you. I know you and Britt fight sometimes, and that money is sometimes really tight, and you lost your father, but you have a better head on your shoulders than I do."

"I don't, Q. I just learned young that sometimes following my heart tends to have better results than following my head."

"I'm not you, Santana."

"Well, no one is as awesome as me, but I suggest that you try for a second. It might reap some results you don't expect."

* * *

The last place Quinn wanted to be at the moment was in her empty house. She drove around Silverlake, finally ending up in Echo Park, a neighborhood she hadn't spent much time in since she graduated from college. Silverlake was about as far east as she ever found herself these days. She laughed at herself as she put her credit card in the parking meter and saw the hipsters smoking cigarettes and wandering aimlessly between the bars and the record shops and the bookstores. She was pretty sure that ten years ago she was dressed like they were, smoking American Spirits outside of "Out of the Closet" and arguing with Santana about Heidegger and the most recent Lykke Li album. Ten years before her time, there were kids dressed the same way, arguing about Heidegger and the most recent Elliott Smith or Magnetic Fields album. She wondered what album kids were arguing about these days.

She walked into Stories, suddenly feeling out of place in her adult Beverly Hills outfit and yearned for an ironic, old-lady dress and big, cheap sunglasses from Venice. She can't believe how long it's been since she last was here. She would never get sick of the smell of used books and dust and the feeling of bad customer service. She browsed for an hour, finally settling on Joan Didion's _Play It As It Lays_. She had read it hundreds of times, but somehow it never got old for her. She bought a coffee and sat out on the back patio with her new book. She even bummed a cigarette off a college kid and tried in vain to pretend that it didn't burn as the smoke went down her throat.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as the first disc of _69 Loves Songs_ came on over the speakers. She tried to plug through her book, ignoring the music playing in the background, but as the sun began setting everything about her day, everything about her last six months hit her like a brick wall. She closed her book and bummed another cigarette, not sure how much more she could read about Maria and her lost child and her lost _self. _As if on cue, as the twenty-something across from her lit the cigarette, Stephen Merritt's grating voice pierced through her thoughts, belting out _All My Little Words. _

"_You are a splendid butterfly. It is your wings that make you beautiful. And I could make you fly away. But I could never make you stay. You said you were in love with me. Both of us know that that's impossible. And I could make you rue the day, but I could never make you stay. Not for all the tea in China, not if I could sing like a bird, not for all North Carolina, not for all my little words. Not if I could write for you, the sweetest song you ever heard. Doesn't matter what I do, not for all my little words."_

"Hey, you okay, lady?" The kid with the asymmetrical haircut asked Quinn after lighting her cigarette.

"I think I'm just dealing with my life." She croaked out to him, taking a deep inhale of her cigarette.

* * *

"I'm dealing with my life." Quinn stood awkwardly in Rachel's doorway, too aware of the smell of coffee and smoke that lingered on her clothes.

"You came over here to tell me that you're dealing with your life, Quinn?" Rachel looked frustrated, her arms across her chest. Quinn smirked a little. It was hard to take Rachel seriously in her carousel pony pajama set.

"Can I come in?"

"I guess." Rachel opened the door wider and let Quinn in past her.

"I'm dealing with my life."

"So you said, Quinn."

"I'm dealing with my life, and I don't want to deal with it anymore without you in it. Don't say anything, Rach. I know you want to, please let me finish. I know that I should have spoken to you in the last couple months. I thought that it would be better if I figured out all of my bullshit and then came to you, a perfect human being, ready to be everything you deserved and more. I've been avoiding this…this…aging process, or whatever it is you call it. I thought that aging meant reaching a point of perfection, and didn't realize that it meant accepting yourself for everything that you are, and then some. That…scars and wrinkles would appear on this body, and that's what gave me character, not took it away. _You've_ left a mark on me, Rachel, and what happened may not have been perfect, and it may not have been clean, or ideal, or what either of us envisioned our future to be, but it's all for the best, Rachel. It's all for the best, because in the end, we'll have one another. I'm done waiting. I'm done waiting for a mystical moment of self realization and I'm standing here, Rach, scars, and marks, and flaws, and all and I'm asking you to take me as I am. This can end in multiple ways, Rachel. We both know, that we've been going through this cycle for years. I get lost and you find me again. Sometimes it's been subtle, like my obsession with a prom queen crown, and sometimes its been obvious, like me falling in love with you." For the first time since Quinn began speaking, Rachel showed a reaction to her words. Her eyes widened and glossed over and she bit her bottom lip. "You keep managing to find me again, Rachel. I know now, that there may not be anything I can do to make you stay, but I have to at least try." Quinn bounced nervously on the balls of her feet, not knowing what to say and not knowing what to do when Rachel didn't have an immediate response.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Quinn."

"Let me kiss you." Before Rachel could say anything further, Quinn pulled her in to a soft kiss. There was no tongue, it was sweet and kind and gentle. It lasted only a few seconds before Quinn pulled away.

"Hi," Quinn said, regaining her breath and trying to ignore the flush that rose up her cheeks. "My name is Quinn Fabray. I'm thirty-years-old. I'm a divorcee, I have three daughters under ten and one that I gave up for adoption when I was in high school, but I still think about her everyday. I'm an aspiring writer and I love to sing, but just for fun. Also, I'm in love with Rachel Berry. The first time we met we hated each other. Then we became friends. We were friends for a long time. Then we fell in love."

"When Harry Met Sally." Rachel said. Quinn nodded. "How did you know…" Rachel asked.  
"You quote it, from time to time."

"You noticed…"

"Of course I noticed. I'm in love with you. I notice everything."

"You need to go."

"What do you mean, Rachel?" Quinn said, barely keeping her voice from cracking.

"I need a moment to think."

"I'm sorry! I know, I know, I waited too long, and didn't make the right choices when they were staring me in the face, but please, Rachel, please…"

"Quinn. Calm down," Rachel said, taking both of Quinn's hands into her own. "I'm just asking to have a moment to think about it."

"Go out with me."

"I can't."

"Okay. I'll make us dinner. Friday, with the girls, like old times. We can, you know, get to know one another again."

"Okay."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Quinn, I'll see you Friday, but don't think that this changes everything."

"Okay. Friday." Quinn smiled and then place a chaste kiss on Rachel's cheek. As she stood in the hallway, waiting for the elevator, she quickly plunked out a text message to Santana. It simply read, "thank you."

* * *

Thanks for reading! I pinky-promise the next chapter will be up in a more timely fashion. Here's my NEW tumblr in case you all want to check it out: seashorsesantana dot tumblr dot com!

There's nothing on it yet, but you can listen to the Magnetic Fields song I reference!

Thanks for your reviews!


	33. Chapter 33

Santana lets her body fold completely over the shopping cart as she follows Brittany's bouncing step up and down the aisles of Trader Joe's. She hates grocery shopping.

"It's nice to do this again," Brittany says, taking a box of cereal bars off the shelf and turning around to grin at Santana.

"Errands?" Santana asks, barely looking up at her wife.

"No, you know, the little things, that we haven't had time for in the last few years." Brittany shrugs at Santana's raised eyebrows. "Like, remember when we first moved in together?"

"And we didn't know how to grocery shop and would come home with $100 in frozen food and alcohol and vegetables because we were 'trying to be healthy' that would inevitably rot in the fridge? Yeah, I remember."

"Whatever. You loved those days. We could have sex wherever, whenever we wanted those days."

"Yeah. Wherever in our 800 square foot apartment."

"All that sex must have burnt off the calories from all that frozen food we were eating."

"And all that Simpler Times we were drinking. Damn, that shit was delicious. Now I'm feeling nostalgic. What do you say we get some of those little frozen spring rolls and some mini tacos for dinner tonight?"

"Chicken or beef?"

"Both, obviously."

"I love you," Brittany says through a grin, placing a quick peck on Santana's lips before she watching her wife wander off toward the frozen food aisle. Santana returns a moment later with a basket in her hand so she could hold her frozen tacos and three packs of Simpler Times.

"Santana, put the beer away."

"No! I want it. Nostalgia." Santana replies, clutching tightly to her beer. "Plus, Kurt and Sam are coming for dinner on Friday, we should make sure to have beer for them."

"I think Kurt is more of a white wine kind of a guy."

"Well, I'm going to be a beer kind of a girl for the night, so I'm sticking to my guns and getting the Simpler Times."

"It's going to go straight to your tummy, and I don't want to hear any complaints from you about it."

"Well, maybe we should just work those calories off college-style," Santana says, winking. Brittany rolls her eyes, and continues pushing the cart down the aisles.

* * *

"I'm nervous, Kurt," Rachel says as she takes a sip of her nonfat soy Chai latte. She nervously loosens the striped scarf around her neck.

"Honey, you have nothing to be worried about." Kurt says with a flounce of his hand. "You've known Quinn for ages, and you two have been dancing around each other for nearly as long. Just go over to her house and be your normal half-charming half-insane Rachel Berry self. She's loved it for fifteen years, why would she change now?"

"Okay, I'm pretty sure she did not love it fifteen years ago."

"Oh, please. She did, she just _didn't _know she loved it yet. That's why she was always such a bitch to you."

"I don't know if there's truth to that theory. I mean, she wasn't an eight-year-old boy. Why does everyone assume that she was behaving like one in high school?"

"Honey, I'm a costume designer, not a therapist, don't ask for my clinical opinion. Now, why are you so nervous?"

"Why wouldn't I be nervous, Kurt? We were enemies, then we were kind of acquaintances, then friends, then lovers, then enemies again. Do I dress up for dinner? Do I assume I'm staying for a movie like I did when we were friends? Do we kiss at the end of the night? She's not even officially divorced yet."

"Rachel Berry. You are over-thinking again. Just go spend time with Quinn. This is how you two got into this mess, right? You two enjoy spending time with one another. The rest of it will all fall into place. Trust me." Kurt reassures her, squeezing her hand gently.

"Thank you, Kurt," Rachel says, smiling. "Now, enough about me, I want to know everything going on between you and Sam!"

* * *

"Hey, mami!" Santana yells as she hears the front door swing open. "We're in the kitchen!"

"Is everything okay, mija?" Maria asks, pushing the stroller all the way into the kitchen. Brittany immediately leans down to free a wriggling Nico and Olivia from their confines.

"Of course, just cooking dinner," Santana replies, nonchalantly, kissing her mother on the cheek.

"Quinn called me three times, worried about you. Why haven't you been picking up the phone?" Brittany rolls her eyes from her seated position of the floor of the kitchen playing with both children and an excited Lola.

"_Quinn_ hasn't stopped freaking calling me every hour for days. I get it, she's having her first official _thing_ with Berry, why wouldn't she be freaked out. I know that _I _would be if I were forced to go on a date with Berry. I just seriously can't take anymore of her right now though."

"She called over and over again last night while we were—" Brittany began.

"Intimate," Santana finishes, saving her mother from having to hear all of the details of her relationship with her wife.

"If you know what I mean," Brittany continues.

"I do," Maria jumps in, absentmindedly playing peek-a-boo with Olivia who is sprawled out on the floor.

"Santana's been avoiding her ever since."

"You should cut her some slack, mija," Maria reprimands her daughter, sporting the same look Santana recalls from her childhood whenever her mother wanted her to apologize to someone. "This is a big deal for her."

"Mami, I'm really not in the mood to talk about Quinn and her particular brand of crazy right now, okay?"

"Mami, mami," Nico cries from the floor, raising his arms up toward Santana. She picked him up with one arm, continuing to stir the pot with her free hand. "Leche," he said, touching Santana's breast.

"Mamá, ¿puedes conseguir un poco de leche?" Maria nods.

"You should call her tonight, Santana," Maria says, pouring milk into a sippy cup for Nico.

"Sí, mama, I will," Santana says, rolling her eyes and taking the milk from her mother. She places Nico in his high chair and he happily slurps on his milk. "Now, mami, I want to know all about your date tomorrow."

"It's not a date, Santanita."

"Dinner and dancing with a single man?" Brittany asks, standing up with Olivia on her hip. "That certainly sounds like a date to me."

"It's not a big deal. I just thought I should be out of the house for your dinner with Sam and Kurt tomorrow so I accepted. It's just two friends going out."

"Sure, mami, whatever you say," Santana says, returning to her cooking. Maria sat down at the table and played with a rattle with Nico.

"I guess the aversion to dating is genetic," Brittany says, playfully bumping shoulders with Santana.

"We all grow out of it eventually," Santana says, kissing Brittany on the corner of her lips. "Now, quit flirting with me and help me get this dinner on the table!" Santana says between laughter.

"Yes, ma'am!" Brittany says, kissing Santana on the lips again.

* * *

"What do you want, Rachel?" Kurt asks, trying, and failing, to conceal the annoyance in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. Is this a bad time? Should I call back later?"

"I've answered, Rachel, so just get on with what you have to say?" Kurt pauses and mouths 'I'm sorry' to Sam. "Are you exercising? Because I do not want to think about what else you'd be doing that has you out of breath while you're on the phone with me."

"Kurt!" Rachel squeals. "I'm on the elliptical. It helps calm me down when I'm nervous."

"Okay, Rachel, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just, I'm afraid, I guess that I'm setting myself up to get my heartbroken by Quinn again. I don't think I can deal with that."

"Rachel, I'm going to tell you this once, and then I don't want to hear from you again, unless it's about fashion options, until after Friday, understood?" Kurt took her silence to be a yes. "What did Quinn tell you after you first hooked up in Big Bear?"

"That we were rolling with the punches."

"And what did Quinn tell you when you left for New York?"

"That I didn't have as much to lose as she did."

"And what did Quinn tell you when she came to your house the other night?"

"That she's in love with me," Rachel replied, her voice cracking at the response.

"And…" Kurt prodded.

"And that when she gets lost I always find her. What is the point of all this Kurt?"

"The point, Rachel Berry, is that Quinn was struggling. Does that justify the way she treated you? Of course not, but that doesn't mean that she hasn't progressed in leaps and bounds. She's in love with you, Rachel, and if I'm not mistaken, you're in love with her. She's single, and yeah, it's going to be some work, but isn't that the case of anything worth having? You two have fought against this long enough. Let yourselves be happy."

"Thanks, Kurt."

"Of course. Good luck, Rachel. I'll talk to you Saturday!"

* * *

"Well, honestly, Q, after the bullshit you put that girl through this year, I'm surprised she's willing to see you at all." Santana says, absentmindedly filing her nails as she talks to Quinn through her headset.

"Thanks, Santana."

"No, seriously. That's love. She waited for you to work all of your nonsense out, and she's willing to still go on a date with you? She must love you. You have nothing to be worried about."

"I want to talk to Brittany."

"Brittany is outside in her studio, you're stuck with me.

"It's so late, though." Santana rolls her eyes at Quinn's obvious attempts to change the subject.

"Look, Q, you have nothing to be worried about. Berry is obviously head over hells crazy about you. If you want me to come over Friday afternoon and help you get ready, I'd be more than happy to, but the best thing you can do for your nerves right now is recognize that you're going on a date, that you've gone on before, with someone you've known for 15 years, who you know is in love with you. There's nothing to be nervous about." Nico's cries come wailing through the loudspeaker and Quinn takes the opportunity to begin another circular ramble about the nature of her relationship with Rachel and how confused she is, but Santana pretty much tuned her out the minute she got out of bed and began walking toward her son's room. "Listen, Quinn," Santana says, cutting her off. "I have to check on Nico, call me Friday if you need anything, okay? And don't call here after nine again. Or before 7. Or on weekdays, really. I'll call you." Santana hangs up the phone and gently nudges Nico's door open.

"Come here, you," she said, picking up the sobbing Nico. "Did you have a nightmare?" She asked, gently wiping the tears off of his face and bobbing him up and down on her hip. He smells soft and sweet like baby shampoo and clean diapers and Santana nuzzles her nose against the fluff of hair on his head. Seeing him cry makes her heart ache in ways she didn't know that it could. "What do you need, my little man, let mami make it better," she says, continuing to bob his small body up and down, gently whispering in his ear. "_Go to sleep little baby, go to sleep little baby._" Santana begins to sing softly to the toddler. "_Everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn, didn't leave nobody but the baby._" His cries slowly turn into soft whimpers as he looks up at Santana with bright eyes. "_Go to sleep little baby, go to sleep little baby, honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop, don't leave nobody but the baby._"

"Pretty," Brittany whispers, her voice surprising Santana out of her song. Brittany is leaning in the doorway, her dance clothes sticking to her body and her skin glowing with a fresh sheen of sweat. She smiles gently at Santana and motions for her to continue singing.

"I almost have him back to sleep," Santana whispers to Brittany as she tiptoes into Nico's room.

"Keep singing," Brittany whispers back.

"_Go to sleep little baby. Go to sleep little baby,_" Santana begins again. She's softer now, perhaps a little more self-conscious now that she has someone listening besides her toddler. "_She's long gone with her red shoes on didn't leave nobody but the baby. Go to sleep little baby,_" Santana begins again, stopping when Brittany starts to harmonize with her, smiling nervously. "_Go to sleep little baby. You and me and the devil make three, didn't leave nobody but the baby._"

"He's sleeping," Brittany whispers, her fingertips tracing light patterns on Santana's back. Santana nods, but doesn't look up from their son, her eyes wide as she stroked the soft hair on his head.

"He's so beautiful," Santana whispers, kissing his forehead gently.

"You both are. Let's get him into bed?" Brittany asks, looking quizzically at her wife. Santana nods and gently places their son in the crib. She tucks him in and checks the baby monitor and she and Brittany each kiss him on the head, before shutting the door almost all the way. They peek into Olivia's room, but she's sleeping soundly. It turned out that they really only had one sleepless baby on their hands, and that Nico had been keeping Olivia up all this time.

"Where did you learn that song?" Brittany asks Santana later as she climbs out of the shower and Santana brushes her teeth in their bathroom.

"Quinn," Santana said, after spitting her toothpaste down the drain. She shakes her toothbrush out and places it in the ceramic cat toothbrush cup by the sink.

"It's pretty," Brittany says, furiously rushing a towel through her hair.

"Thanks," Santana says, shrugging.

"I love watching you be so _maternal_," Brittany teases Santana, kissing her on the cheek and making eye contact in the mirror. "Our friends would never have believed it back in high school." Santana looks up from the lotion she had been rubbing on her arms at Brittany with a shy smile. That smile made Brittany stop teasing. It was the nervous smile of a younger Santana, a more insecure Santana. "What's up, honey?" Brittany asks, running a hand down Santana's arm.

"Nothing, just…I don't know. I like it too, you know? It feels right. You, me, our children. When I hold them I get this feeling like I'm holding the whole world inside my chest. Or something. It's amazing." Santana makes eye contact with Brittany in the mirror again. "What?" She asks, responding to the slight smirk playing on the edges of Brittany's mouth. "You know I'm not good at talking about feelings, Britt."

"No, no!" Brittany clarifies. "That's not why I'm smiling. I'm just happy and you're adorable and I really _really_ love you." Santana smiles her nervous smile again.

"I love you too. They're just so perfect, it's…it's unreal that they're _here _and they're _ours_ and they're our _family._" Santana says, placing the lotion back in her makeup drawer. "Oh god," she says, rolling her eyes to herself for what had to be then 100th time that day, "I must be getting my period or something." She turns to look at Brittany. "Hurry up and get ready for bed, Britt. I'm going to be cold in there by myself." Santana kisses Brittany on the lips and leaves a dripping and grinning Brittany alone in the bathroom.

* * *

Quinn was _really_ trying not to be nervous. This was a downside of having children. While she may have been perfectly capable of hiding her nerves from another adult, her children were like bloodhounds. They'd been on her all day.

_ "How was school?" Quinn asked as she buckled her seatbelt and switched the car into drive._

_ "Good!" Hannah said._

_ "Why are you being weird?" Lily asked._

_ "What are you talking about?"_

_ "You've been weird all day, mom," Hannah says, shrugging her shoulders like it's the most obvious thing in the world. _

_ "Yeah," Lily said from the backseat, tapping her mother on her shoulder to get her attention. "Like we're playing pretend or something."_

_ "I don't know what you two are talking about, but you should be excited that your Aunt Santana is going to be at the house for a bit when we get home!" All three girls squeal with the prospect of their Aunt S coming over._

_ "Rachel is coming over too, right mom?" Hannah asks._

_ "Yes, after Santana leaves."_

_ "See, totally weird." Lily says. "I mean, I know Aunt S is afraid of Rachel stealing her gold, or something, but why are they coming over at different times?"_

_ "They just are, dear," Quinn says, trying to keep her focus on the road._

_ "Do you think Aunt S would give me some of her gold?"_

_ "I don't know, sweetheart," Quinn says, rolling her eyes. "You'll have to talk to Aunt S about that one."_

"You're still totally being weird, mom," Hannah says, walking through the kitchen with a book in her hands.

"It's totally funny, right, Han?" Lily asks as she slowly wheels by on her skateboard, her electric guitar thrown over her back and her sparkly pink helmet haphazardly placed upon her head. Quinn briefly considers reprimanding her, but decides she didn't have time to deal with it right now.

"See, totally weird," Hannah says from her seat at the kitchen table, gesturing over to their mother. Quinn puts her knife down on the cutting board, a little more loudly than intended.

"Can you please enlighten me as to what I'm doing that's so weird?"

"You've just been weird all day, mom." Lily says

"And you totally just didn't say anything just now when Lily came into the kitchen riding her skateboard in the house, with her guitar, and her helmet not even on." Harper said.

"Yeah, mommy," her youngest chimed in from nowhere. Quinn looked around to find Harper curled up at her feet playing with some Barbie dolls. "You're supposed to say," Harper began, using her dolls to act out the actions, "Lily! Stop riding the skateboard in the house! And what have I told you about riding around with that guitar on your back—don't think Aunt S is just going to buy you a new one when you break that one! And put your helmet on!" Harper screamed out.

"Totally," Hannah said.

"What is it with you and the 'totally', lately? Where are you getting this?"

"See? You're changing the subject. A sign of you being _totally_ weird today."

"_Totally_," Lily agreed. Quinn just shook her head. She was certainly outnumbered in her own home. She didn't get a chance to argue with them any further because the sound of the doorbell. Nobody moved.

"Well?" Quinn asked, looking around at her daughters. "Nobody's going to get that? Usually you all are rushing to the door the minute it rings." Quinn rolled her eyes, as she put the knife down again and walked toward the door. "Typical," she muttered under her breath. "A serial killer is at the door, those three are ready to run up and welcome them in with open arms. A date? They all wait to watch me do it awkwardly. Not a date," Quinn reminded herself, shaking her head.

* * *

"Thanks for inviting us to dinner, ladies," Kurt says, handing Brittany a bottle of red and a bottle of white wine.

"I always want to see more of my Kurt!" Brittany says as she pulls Kurt into a tight hug.

"Thanks for these," Santana says, gesturing to the wine and placing a hello peck on Kurt and Sam's cheeks.

"I don't like coming to dinner at your house," Sam chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips. Brittany pouted as they led the two men toward the kitchen.

"Why not?"

"Because Santana is always weird and nice and like, playing hostess, or whatever," Sam says, "when really, I know all she's thinking is 'god, do we need more homos in this house? Are Sam's lips actually big enough to eat my children's heads, and, if so, should I hide them from him?'"

"You know me too well, Sammy Evans." Santana says. "Don't worry, I'll only be able to keep the hostess act up for about fifteen minutes before I'm protecting my babies from your whale lips."

"Good to know, Santana," Sam says as they follow Santana and Brittany into the house.

* * *

"Hi, Quinn!" Rachel says, her smile bright and plastered across her face. She readjusts her light jacket, smoothing out the creases where it had bunched around her center. "Thanks so much for inviting me tonight! I brought a bottle of red and bottle of white, I couldn't remember what you were drinking these days, and I brought a bottle of caffeine free diet Dr. Pepper for the girls, I know you don't like them having to much caffeine or sugar!"

"Thanks, Rach. That was really thoughtful," Quinn says quietly, opening her door so that Rachel could actually enter the house.  
"I'm really excited to see the girls, it's been so long since I've really spent any time with them."

"I know, they're really excited to see you too!" Right on cue, Lily comes skateboarding down the hall. She pops her skateboard up into her arms and wraps them around Rachel's legs.

"I missed you, hobbit!" Lily exclaimed.

"I missed you too, little one!" Rachel says, giggling. "I see you've been spending more time with your Aunt Santana, lately."

"Aunt S said you'd like it if I called you hobbit."

"Well, remember, I still have at least a foot on you."

"I don't really know what a hobbit is, anyway," Lily clarifies.

Moments later Harper and Hannah ran in to say hello, but it wasn't long before the girls grew disinterested in the boring adult conversation and resumed whatever activities they'd been at earlier.

"I'm nervous," Quinn says, quietly, feeling the tension in her silent kitchen brewing around her.

"Why?" Rachel asks, for once feeling that many words weren't necessary.

"Because…this is the first time that we're doing this…like this." Rachel laughs.

"For a writer…"

"An aspiring writer," Quinn clarifies.

"For an aspiring writer, you have quite a way with words." Rachel smiles sheepishly at Quinn who just smirked at the statement.

"You know what I mean."

"Quinn, we've been doing just _this_, like _this_, for ages. This is just the first time you've been brave enough to admit it." Quinn sheepishly smiles at Rachel. "Now, let's stop all this pretense and have a normal, fun night. What do you need me to help you with?" Rachel beamed at Quinn, effectively hiding her own nerves.

"Chop the tomatoes for the salad, maybe?" Quinn asks, quietly smiling at Rachel.

"I'd be happy to." Rachel grins at Quinn.

"Thanks, Rach. For everything."

"Of course, Quinn. I'm just glad you invited me over."

* * *

Sam is sitting on the couch drinking a Simpler Times and watching Santana rock a sleepy Nico back and forth. Kurt and Brittany are across the room, cuddled up in the loveseat, so Kurt can show Brittany pictures of the costume's he's designing for a new period-film.

"It's nice to see you like this, Santana." Sam says, grinning.

"What do you mean?" She asked looking up from her son's head over to Sam.

"Happy," Sam began, smiling at her and taking a sip of his beer. "I mean, we didn't really stay in touch after graduation, and I've seen you more in the last three months than I have in the last ten years. It's nice to see this, I don't know, this softer side of you." Santana smiled at him, not sure how to respond. She wanted to find something sarcastic to say, but she couldn't think of anything while she was cradling her child.

"Thanks, Sam." They sit in silence again. Santana's not really sure what to say to him. Sure, she dated him when she was 16, but that didn't mean that she actually knew shit about him. And she guesses that they were kind of friends her senior year, but that McKinley High bitch-block still comes up with him for some reason. She uses her fingertips to brush the hair out of her sleeping son's eyes, and makes eye contact with Sam again. He's smirking now. Or something. Maybe it's not a smirk, maybe it's just a genuinely happy smile. Santana's doesn't know. "It does something to you, you know?" She asks, finally breaking the silence, trying to get some sort of read on what it is Sam is feeling at the moment. "Children. Family. Having to take care of something bigger than yourself."

"I can see that. I like this side of you, Santana. I think she was always hiding a little bit underneath that cool exterior and the ability to pull out a sharp insult at the drop of a dime."

"She was," Brittany says from her seat, where she had evidently been listening to their conversation. "Speaking of, it looks like we need to get the sleepyheads to bed," Brittany said, gesturing for Santana to get up with her. "We'll be right back."

* * *

"Are you staying to watch a movie, Rachel?" Hannah asks as she eats the last of the food on her plate. "You can even pick this time, since you haven't been over in a while, right mommy?" Hannah looks over at Quinn for reassurance.

"I suppose that's true," Quinn says, "if it's alright with you, of course, Rachel."

"I'd love to stay. Who's up for a little 'Sound of Music'?" The girls squeal and Quinn rolls her eyes at Rachel.

"Okay, Rachel can stay, but the three of you need to go upstairs and get in your jammies before the movie." Before Quinn can continue, the girls are out of their chairs and running up the stairs like wildfire. "Really, Rach?" Quinn asks, after the sound of footsteps up the stairs slows down. "The Sound of Music is like three hours long." Quinn says, stacking the girls plates on top of her own.

"Oh, you know they'll fall asleep before the Nazi's even come to town. I'd be surprised if they even knew that there were Nazi's in that movie, considering their attention-span." Rachel rises from her seat, picking up the salad bowl and an empty platter, following Quinn toward the kitchen.

"Those are my children you're talking about," Quinn says, placing the dirty dishes in the sink, "and I'll have you know that they have perfectly healthy attention spans for their age." Rachel playfully bumps Quinn's shoulder.  
"Whatever you say," Rachel says, laughing as she hears the girls squealing upstairs.

* * *

"It's wild, isn't it?" Sam asks Kurt after Brittany and Santana's footsteps faded up the stairs. Kurt just nods, thinking into his glass of wine.

"It is and it isn't. Sometimes I'm amazed by how just normal and happy and healthy they are, but then I just have to remind myself that they were in love before the rest of us even knew each other, even if they didn't realize it yet. They've been in love forever. Of course they'd have the most normal, stable, relationship of anyone we know."

"What about us?" Sam asks, playfully smiling at Kurt.

"Well, who knows? Maybe we'll have what they do one day, Mr. Sam Evans," Kurt says, unable to hide his grin.

"I hope so," Sam says, giving Kurt a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Gross, Sammy Evans," Santana says as she and Brittany reenter the room, their fingers intertwined. "Please refrain from ravishing Kurt's porcelain face with your massive, elephant lips on my couch."

"And she's back," Kurt says, gently tapping Sam on the arm and winking at him.

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me over, Quinn," Rachel says softly, playing with the fringe on the throw she has wrapped around her. The sounds of the VonTrapp family hiding in the abbey play softly behind them.

"You've thanked me a hundred times, Rachel." Quinn replies, nervously swirling her wine in her hand. They were sitting on the couch, the three girls having gone to bed a couple of hours earlier.

"Dinner was really good." Rachel says, gently placing a hand on Quinn's forearm. The touch stopped Quinn's breath. When Rachel didn't move her hand away, Quinn thought she might forget how to start breathing again all together.

"Thanks, Rachel," Quinn said, finally, subtly shifting closer to Rachel in an effort to create more contact between them. "I'm really glad you came over."

"You told me that a thousand times, Quinn."

"Have I mentioned that I'm a little nervous?"

"No, actually, you haven't noted that quite yet."

"Oh?" Quinn says, through nervous laughter, "let me inform you then, Ms. Berry. I'm nervous."

"I never would have guessed. You seem so comfortable."

"Do I?" Quinn asks, her eyes darting from Rachel's eyes to the half smile on Rachel's lips.

"Yes. I've never seen you quite so comfortable." Rachel replies, clearing her throat.

"Maybe…" Quinn begins, taking a deep breath in, "maybe you make me comfortable." Her foot accidentally grazes Rachel's and she decides not to move it.

"Really?" Rachel asks, smirking. "I thought you said I make you nervous." Rachel raises her eyes so that they're making eye contact again. It quiets both of them. Somewhere between the beginning of their banter and now they've both shifted closer together. Quinn takes a breath in, wondering if she should make a move, or if Rachel will make a move, or if this is a mistake considering that they're just now beginning to put their friendship back on track. Then Rachel's lips are on hers. They're soft; it's not quite a kiss, rather Rachel's lips simply grazing along her own. Her nose and her mouth fill with Rachel's chapstick, the red wine, the dinner they finished hours ago. She's not sure if she's tasting of smelling. She feels Rachel tense and she remembers that this is the moment that she is supposed to kiss back. So she does.

* * *

"Do you ever think it's funny that I dated Kurt and you dated Sam and now they're dating each other?" Brittany asks as she settles in next to Santana who is reading a contract. Santana chuckles, lifting her arm so that her arm is wrapped around Brittany.

"I guess I never really thought about it, but it is kind of ridiculous. I try to avoid thinking about the bizarre love triangles we found ourselves in when we were in high school." She says, returning to the contract she was reading as Brittany traces patterns up and down her forearm.

"Like how Rachel lost her virginity to Finn and you took Finn's virginity and now Quinn and Rachel are sleeping together?"

"Yup, exactly like that, Britt," Santana says, smirking.

"You're making your cute, squinty, face," Brittany whispers, kissing the crook of Santana's elbow. "You should put your glasses on."

"I don't need my glasses."

"Then why did the doctor give them to you?"

"Because he was on crack."

"Well, either you don't understand this contract, or you can't really see it. Which do you prefer?" Brittany asks. Santana sighs heavily and throws the contract on her bedside table.

"I'm done working anyway," she says, kissing Brittany on the top of her head. "Can I talk to you about something?" Santana asks, quietly.

"Of course, honey," Brittany says, sitting up so that she is eye to eye with Santana. Santana _never _asked to talk, so when she does, Brittany knows it is serious.

"I want to do it, I think," Santana began, taking a deep breath. "I mean, everything in me _doesn't _want to do it, but at the same time I feel like I should."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, honey," Brittany said.

"I think that I want to carry our next child." Brittany's eyes widen, but she lets Santana continue. "It freaks the _fuck_ out of me, Britt. I don't care that I saw you and Quinn and Mercedes and Tina all do this. It really fucking scares me." Santana takes a deep breath. "At the same time…I'm curious, maybe? Or, like, feel like it's something I will kick myself for not doing in the future full of our amazing children that you had or we adopted and wonder, forever, what it would have been like to go through the experience myself. And, yeah, I'd like to give Nico and Olivia little siblings and I know that we should do it sooner rather than later…" Santana looks down at her lap, trailing off.

"So you want to…" Brittany begins, her eyes welling with tears. Santana nods, shyly.

"After the twins second birthday, I think we should start trying, and, at least, see how it goes…" Brittany climbs over Santana so she is straddling her and forcefully presses her lips to her wife's.

"I love you, Santana," Brittany says between kisses, pressing herself as close as possible to Santana's body. "We're going to have a whole army of Pierce-Lopez's. You're going to have some, I'm going to have some, we're going to adopt some…they're pretty much going to take over the world…" Brittany continues. Her lips graze Santana's neck and her fingertips play at the hem of Santana's shirt, slowly rolling it up until it is bunched under Santana's neck. She slides her palm down over Santana's bra, finding her hard nipple under the fabric with her index finger and her thumb.

"Fuck, Brittany," Santana moans, bucking her hips up toward her wife, "I need you." Brittany lifts her own shirt over her head, revealing her naked breasts. Santana takes the left one and guides it toward her mouth, placing small kisses around the nipple, before taking the pink bud between her teeth. Brittany's hands frantically work their way down Santana, running a single digit outside Santana's black Calvin Klein's.

"You're so wet, baby…"Brittany whispers into Santana's hair. "You soaked through your panties."

"Mami! Mami! Mama, mami, mama, mama, mama!"

"FUCK," Santana yells out, collapsing into the bed.

"It's okay, Brittany whispers, continuing the rhythm of her hips against her wife.

"Britt, I can't get off with our kids yelling 'mami' into a monitor."

"Try, baby," Brittany said, continuing to drive herself into Santana.

"Can't babe," Santana said, sitting up. "I'm going to check on our children. And…need I remind you…this is what it's going to be like for the next twenty years with the _army_ we're building."

* * *

"We should stop," Quinn says into Rachel's mouth. Rachel tightens her grip on the fabric of Quinn's dress. Quinn responds immediately, running her hands down the small of Rachel's back, lingering for a moment on the dimple where her back meets her butt before allowing her hands to travel south, pressing Rachel closer into her body.

"I don't think you want to stop," Rachel breathes out, twisting the material of Quinn's dress tighter in her fists.

"No, no, we should stop," Quinn says firmer now, pulling her head away from Rachel's so it is leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Why?" Rachel asks, gasping slightly for air, and leaning toward Quinn's lips again with a smirk on her face. Quinn turns her face away so that Rachel misses her lips, causing Rachel's eyes to widen at the motion. They are a mix of nervousness and lust. Quinn gives Rachel's butt a reassuring squeeze and grins at her.

"I want to date you." Quinn says, her voice huskier than usual.

"Isn't that what this is?"

"No, this is me groping your ass on a first date. It is nice, though," Quinn smirks, and squeezes Rachel's ass as if to emphasize her statement. Rachel leans up, her legs still straddling Quinn's hips, and looks at the woman lying between her legs.

'Well, who says there's going to be a second date, Quinn?"

"Me?"

"Well, if you're going to be so formal about it, I shall be going, Ms. Fabray, I had a lovely evening," Rachel says, climbing off of Quinn and straightening out her dress. Quinn groans at the loss of contact.

"Let me walk you to the door." Quinn rises and the two walk next to each other, their knuckle occasionally grazing as they walk in time toward the door.

"Can we do this again sometime?" Rachel asks as Quinn opens the door for her.

"I think I'd really like that." Quinn says, smiling down at Rachel. She leans in for a quick kiss. "I'll call you," Quinn says, as Rachel turns and heads down the path toward her car. Quinn watches her until she starts the ignition and drives off down her street. As soon as she's gone, Quinn shuts the door behind her and leans against it, her eyes squeezed shut and a grin slowly growing across her face. She walks into the kitchen and finds her phone.

"Santana?"

"Bitch, what did I tell you about calling here after ten?"

"This has to be an exception. Rachel and I just had an amazing first date, I think."

"Did you bone?"

"No." Quinn says, rolling her eyes.

"Were your kids there?"

"Yes."

"Call me when you have something actually new to tell me, Q. And don't call me after ten!" Santana slams the phone shut. Quinn doesn't care. She just had an amazing date with Rachel Berry. Santana can suck it.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** 11,000 words in 15 days. Amazing what having three days off from work can do!

* * *

"So what's the plan for today, ladies?" Maria chirps as she enters the kitchen, Lola nipping on her heels, as usual. She has taken quite a liking to Santana's mother, much to Maria's chagrin; she had never been much of an animal person. At least Lord Tubbington the III (or was it the IV? She could never remember), spent most of his time sleeping, eating, and looking miserable. In other words, he stayed out of Maria's business. Santana and Brittany both look tired and not amused by Maria's cheery morning demeanor. Nico was getting over a cold and had been keeping them up and Santana's worried she's going to come down with it too. She's always been a bit of a hypochondriac.

"I have three clients this morning before lunch," Santana says, her hand on Olivia's forehead, evidently checking her temperature. Olivia swats at her mother, trying to eat her banana in peace.

"Just like her mami," Brittany says, giggling. "I have to work on the choreography for that music video I start tomorrow," Brittany says, looking over at Maria. "So, I'll be in my studio all morning."

"I wanted to catch a yoga class around lunch," Maria says.

"Quinn's coming for lunch today, mama, so we can watch the babies," Santana says. "I'm going to go get dressed and take the dog out," she says, taking a bite of Olivia's banana, much to her daughter's dismay.

"Don't eat the children's food, San," Brittany says, giggling. She's still chuckling to herself as Santana leaves the kitchen, so she doesn't notice the odd look her mother-in-law is giving her. She raises her eyebrows at Maria.

"Why does my daughter need to get dressed to take the dog out?" She asks Brittany, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Brittany buckles the clasps on Nico's overalls. He recently figured out how to unclasp them himself, to his unending amusement.

"She wants to look good for that hot actress who lives across the street. She thinks I don't know," Brittany says, rolling her eyes and chuckling at her wife's vanity.

"That girl will never change," Maria says, shaking her head. Brittany nods in agreement.

"She's silly. Every time the woman talks to her she just stutters and blushes and then feels guilty." Brittany laughs. "Your mami's crazy," she says, patting Nico on his head.

"Crazy mami," he says giggling at his other mother.

"Good, boy!" Brittany coos, raising her hand up for a high five that Nico happily reciprocates. "You have to remember that one!" She laughs, before returning to her cup of tea and the newspaper.

* * *

Quinn is her lawyer's office again, a spot that has quickly become one of her least favorites.

"So, I think it's settled," her lawyer says to her. "Mr. Scott's lawyer sent the paperwork over today; Mr. Scott has already signed it. As per our discussion, you'll split the profits from the sale of the house in Beverly Hills, you'll keep the house in Big Bear, and he'll keep the one in Florida. You'll retain ownership of the BMW, Mr. Scott will retain ownership of the rest of the vehicles. Furthermore, Mr. Scott will owe you spousal support and child support of $4,297,447.35 yearly, to cover your living expenses since you've been reliant on Mr. Scott for the last ten years, support to be readjusted in five years pending Mr. Scott's income," he says. Quinn can't help but wince at the words 'reliant'. "This will also cover the day to day expenses for the girls and their tuition at Crossroads. All you need to do, Ms. Fabray, is sign the document." Quinn signs the papers in a daze and shakes her lawyer's hand. She leaves the office and puts her sunglasses back on and drives to Santana and Brittany's, in her BMW that was now just hers. She walks into Santana's house and half-hears her ranting about how fucking annoying Puck was being with this new movie and what a dick the head of the studio is. She pours too much milk in her coffee and doesn't even notice that Nico is getting snot all over one of her favorite dresses. She isn't even sure when Nico left his mother's arms and ended up in her own.

"Okay, Fabray. What's going on? You've been awkwardly quiet for too long." Santana says, brandishing the knife she'd been cutting a tomato with in Quinn's direction.

"I just signed my divorce papers." Quinn whispers. Santana's face softens.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" Santana says, placing the knife on the cutting board and wiping her hands on a towel before she takes a seat next to Quinn. She takes her son into her arms, gently wiping his long curls away from his eyes.

"I don't know," Quinn shrugs. "I expected to feel some sort of relief, but it really is all just sad, you know?" Santana nods, nuzzling her nose into Nico's hair. He's happily babbling and banging a spoon incessantly on the table. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that it's over, and I know this was the right decision for me and the girls and Justin and things seem to be going so well with Rachel…it's still just sad, you know? One day you are in love and sharing your life with someone and making plans for the future…and the next you're signing papers divvying up who owns what and what days you can see the kids. It's just hard to see the bright side of divorce."

"Of course, Q. I think the bright side is that you hated one another and he was a cheating asshole and you're better off without him," Santana says simply, covering Nico's ears as she says 'asshole'. Quinn rolls her eyes.

"I know. I know that. I just…I knew I would be sad. That's why I asked to come to lunch today. I just needed something normal, I guess. You guys are my normal, as strange as that sounds."

"You know B and I are always here for you, right?"

"Of course, Santana," Quinn says softly, taking Nico back from Santana and grabbing a tissue from her purse to wipe his slightly dripping nose. Santana rises and continues working on their lunch in silence.

"Quinn!" Brittany yelps, gripping Quinn in a tight, over the shoulder, hug as soon as she walks through the sliding door into their kitchen. She leans over Quinn to give Nico a quick kiss on the head.

"Britt…you're gross." Quinn says, recoiling from the hug. "You're like _super _sweaty."

"Sorry, Q, I was working in the studio," Brittany says, walking over to Santana and wrapping her arms around her from behind. She places a sweaty kiss on Santana's cheek.

"This looks delicious, honey. I'm starving."

"Hungry and smelly," Santana says, leaning back to kiss Brittany on the lips. She taps Brittany's nose as she scrunches it up in displeasure.

"Why is everyone so glum in here?" She asks, finally picking up on the mood in the room. "And where is Olivia?" Santana nods over to the door of the kitchen where Olivia and Lola are gazing at one another lovingly through the doggy/baby gate. Santana looks over at Quinn.

"I signed my divorce papers today," Quinn says.

"Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry," Brittany says, quickly taking a seat next to her.

"I'm okay." Quinn says softly as Brittany traces small circles on her back.

"It's okay if you're not, you know. You are doing such and amazing job moving on with your life, but Justin was a huge part of it for years. He's the father of your children. It's okay to feel a sense of loss."

"Thanks, B," Quinn says, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder. "But I don't want to bring everybody down, I wanted to have lunch to take a break from feeling bad about myself."

"I think that's smart," Brittany says, jumping up. "I'm going to hop in the shower for a second, I'll be back down before you know it!"

"Okay, B," Santana says with a grin. Brittany straightens the headband on Olivia's head as she hops over the baby/dog gate and heads upstairs.

* * *

They eat mostly in silence, unable to break the dismal mood around the table. Nico begins to babble when he drops his spoon on the table and Santana picks it up and walks into the house, returning moments later with a new one.

"You're such a germaphobe," Brittany says, her eyes full of adoration. Santana rolls her eyes, and hands the spoon to Nico. She buckles his overalls and runs her hand through his long dark curls, watching him proudly use his spoon to feed himself his macaroni and cheese. Brittany has momentarily forgotten her own lunch, choosing to watch Santana and Nico interact instead.

"Yummy?" Santana asks. He nods.

"Mami want cheese?" He asks, holding his spoon out to Santana in his tightly curled fist. Santana opens her mouth and he makes a vroom noise as he feeds his mother. Santana smacks her lips loudly on the bland macaroni and cheese, sending Nico into a fit of giggles.

"Feed mami!" He laughs. Santana laughs too and then wipes his face off with a napkin, retuning to her salad. Brittany grasps Santana's hand and kisses the back of it. Santana looks at her, her eyebrows scrunched together, and Brittany just shrugs. Neither notice that Quinn has started to quietly cry into her salad.

"You have to never screw this up," she whispers. Brittany and Santana's heads jump up to look at Quinn.

"What?" Santana asks, her eyes narrowing at first but then softening when she sees Quinn's tears.

"I mean…" Quinn says, taking a deep breath, "even if I never figure my stuff out, if I'm too selfish, too broken to ever find happiness, it makes me happy to be around you two. At least I can live vicariously through you, so don't screw it up, okay?" Brittany drops her fork and grasps Quinn's hand.

"No cry," Olivia says softly, gazing sadly at Quinn.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," Quinn says, looking at her wide-eyed niece. "No more crying," she says.

"You're not broken," Brittany says softly.

"Yeah, Q," Santana says, "you _are _figuring your stuff out. You just went on a great date with Rachel, your daughters are all happy and healthy…"

"I know, it's just…today was just hard. It just adds to the list of things that I have failed at." They all sit silently as Quinn collects herself.

"So…" Brittany begins, eyeing Santana nervously. "I was thinking, maybe we should go out this weekend. You know, instead of mourning your loss, celebrating your newfound freedom, Q! Just you, me, San and Rach."

"No _way_ I'm going out with Berry again," Santana says, matter-of-fact. "Remember when we took her to Jumbo's?"

"We all had fun!" Brittany says.

"Justin _does _have the girls this weekend," Quinn begins, sniffling a bit and taking a deep breath. "It would be a nice way of getting the fact that my husband is now utilizing his visitation rights with his own daughters off of my mind. It just sounds so clinical." Brittany looks over at Santana.

"We would still need to find sitters for these two," Santana says.

"We have _plenty_ of sitters, Santana. Your mom, Kurt and Sam, Mercedes and James, my sister and her platonic girlfriend…"

"Isn't she like in finals or something?"

"I doubt that girl is doing any studying in college," Brittany says.

"Okay. On one condition." Brittany and Quinn raise their eyebrows at Santana. "I want to go gay."

"We haven't done that in ages," Brittany says, a twinkle in her eye. "I feel so old. I don't even know what or where the lesbian nights are these days."

"I'll do some research tonight, but since you're new to the world of Sapphic love, Q, there's no way around it. We're taking you to a lezzie bar." Quinn isn't sure whether to groan or to grin so instead she shoves some lettuce in her mouth to avoid making a decision either way.

* * *

In the end, the only one who is available to baby-sit is Brittany's sister, who is, of course, more than happy to help. Santana's pretty sure it's mostly because she's a broke college student so staying at her sister's house means full access to a stocked kitchen and cable TV. Maria is going on another non-date with the gentleman from her salsa class, Mercedes is on bed-rest, and Kurt and Sam are in San Francisco for the weekend. Gracie is cuddled up with the twins and Daisy when Santana walks into the living room watching some trash reality show on MTV.

"Turn this garbage off when the kids are awake, okay Gracie?" Santana says, clasping her earring as she walks into the living room.

"Whatever, Santana," Gracie says, not tearing her eyes away from TV. "This show will be very educational about teaching your children how _not_ to be when they're teenagers; i.e. not like their mothers' were."

"Look, I know the mouth Tiffany has on her, and the show stays off when the kids are awake." Santana says, crossing her arms.

"I see _someone_ watches the show," Gracie says, turning off the TV and turning around to look at Santana. "And, _damn_, Santana, you clean up nice! You going into Weho or something? Get your lez on?" Santana raises an eyebrow at Grace.

"As a matter of fact, we are, Gracie," Brittany says, walking into the room and putting her arm around Santana's face. "I think the other Pierce was accurate," she says, looking at Santana. "_Damn._" Brittany kisses Santana on the lips and Gracie scrunches up her face.

"You two are gross," she says, "can you at least _try _and keep the sexual tension at bay when your little sister is in the room? And your children?" Santana rolls her eyes, and picks up Olivia.

"I'll protect you from your crazy aunt," she says into Olivia's ear. "Now, ladies," she says, standing in front of the TV, facing Grace and Daisy, "You both have our cell phone numbers. I put Quinn and Rachel's on the fridge, along with my mother's, the restaurant, the bar, and the pediatrician. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge, but lay off the alcohol until the kids are asleep, and don't get drunk in case there's an emergency. The guest bedroom is made up downstairs for you two. These are the baby monitors," she says, pointing to the devices sitting on the end table. "Put one in each room and keep one in your bedroom, and keep the volume at least at five. The babies need to be in bed in thirty minutes, they've already been fed and had their baths. Nico needs his rain machine to sleep, otherwise he'll be up all night." The doorbell rings in the middle of Santana's rant and Brittany gets up to answer it. Santana can hear Rachel and Quinn walking into the room, but she continues her instructions. "Diapers are underneath the changing tables in each room, Olivia won't sleep without her ducky, and Nico won't sleep without Mr. Blanky. Lola was walked, but she probably will need to be walked again around ten, just around the block is fine, and my mother may be home by then. I also have written up all of these instructions on the refrigerator next to the phone numbers."

"Jesus, Santana, you'd think I'd never babysat my niece and nephew before."

"I'm just being thorough," she defends.

"Okay, Santana, I think it's time we get this sho

* * *

w on the road. We have 7:45 dinner reservations." Brittany says, clapping her hands together. They kiss both kids goodbye and head out the door.

"I can't believe you've dragged me here again," Quinn yells over the bass, three hours later.

"You've been here before?" Rachel asks, flabbergasted.

"In college. They used to drag me to their lesbian shit all the time. You know, Santana was friends with a few lesbian cheerleaders on our squad and she was in the GSA so I tended to tag along."

"And _love _them, might I add," Santana said.

"It's true," Brittany says. "I mean, you did _beg_ us to buy you shots of fun on your 21st birthday."

"They're making that up," Quinn says.

"Na-uh," Santana says. "She begged multiple people to buy her shots of fun, and ended up getting _three_ by the end of the night."

"What's a shot of fun?" Rachel asks, nervously.

"It's when you pay one of the bartenders twenty dollars and they pour the shot in their mouth and then kiss it to you."

"Is that legal?"  
"Everything is legal at Truckstop." Santana says. "Wait until the bartenders start dancing on top of the bar. Listen for the sirens. It's pretty epic."

"I love this place," Brittany says, obviously eyeing an African-American bartender with a huge afro in a black bikini.

"I know you do, baby," Santana says, taking her wife's face and redirected it to her. She possessively kisses Brittany on the lips. "Just remember, I put a ring on it."

"I can't help that I have a thing for women of color with fake boobs," Brittany says.

"You think that girl's boobs are fake?" Santana asks, seeming genuinely interested.

"Totally. I know fake boobs when I see them. I'm like a Doctor in Boobology," Brittany says as they walk toward the bar.

"I know you are." Santana says, gently cupping Brittany's breasts playfully.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez! Inappropriate!"

"Nothing is inappropriate here," Santana says, simply. "I need four rounds of Tequila shots," she says to the hot, black bartender. She leans back into Brittany who is standing behind her. "Twenty bucks says her gazongas are real."

"You're on. Although I can think of better winnings," Brittany says, winking. "Don't mess with the doctor." Santana grins.

"I'll take you up on that bet, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez," Santana says, kissing Brittany lightly on the lips. She looks over her shoulder. "You think those two are going to make it through the night?" Santana asks, gesturing over to Quinn and Rachel who still look a little shell-shocked.

"Questionable," Brittany says. "But it will be fun to see them try."

* * *

Brittany is dancing and, as usual, has a three foot radius around her. Quinn and Rachel are nearby, but on opposite sides of Brittany. Neither know what the boundaries are now that they're trying this new dating-friendship thing, so it seems the both of them have opted to awkwardly avoid eye contact and all forms of touching, instead clutching to the Hurricane's Santana bought for them as though their lives depended on it. Brittany rolls her eyes at the two girls on either sides of her. There's a brunette with a faux-hawk at the bar staring at her, and she decides she's had enough of this.

"Where's Santana?" Brittany asks Rachel and Quinn.

"Bathroom," Quinn says.

"Bar," Rachel says. Brittany rolls her eyes and goes with her instinct to the patio.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez!" Brittany says, her arms across her chest as she approaches Santana. "I can't believe you! What do you think you're doing?" Santana blushes as her wife stomps toward her. The girl she was talking to quickly shrinks into the background.

"Nothing." Santana says, sheepishly.

"Smoking," Brittany says.

"No, I wasn't." Santana says, eyeing the still burning cigarette on the ground. "Was I smoking, Lindsay?" Santana asks the girl behind her.

"No," the girl squeaks out.

"Lindsay, this is my wife Brittany. Brittany, this is Lindsay."

"Nice to meet you, Brittany," Lindsay says, suddenly exuding a confidence she hadn't had before. "You're every bit as gorgeous as Santana said you were," Santana looks smugly at Brittany over her drink.

"Don't try to sugar talk me out of being mad that you fed my wife cancer sticks. What am I going to say to our children when you die, Santana?"

"Woah, you have children?" Lindsay asks.

"Two," Santana beams. Brittany could swear that Santana's hand was reaching to pull her phone out of her pocket to show off pictures of their children before Lindsay cuts her off.

"I thought you were going to proposition me for a threesome. And trust me, I'd _love_ to be between you two…"

"No!" Santana says, turning fully around to look at Lindsay, appalled. "I just wanted a cigarette!" Lindsay looks disappointed and then annoyed.

"I _knew_ you were smoking," Brittany says, looking at Santana smugly with a hint of disappointment.

"I'm going back to the dance floor," Lindsay says. They barely notice the woman storming past them.

"You know, you can't just flirt with random women to get cancer sticks, Santana. You're really hot. It hurts their feelings." Brittany says, slowly approaching Santana and resting her hands on her waist, nuzzling their noses together.

"I'm just glad to know I still have it," Santana says, shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh trust me, you still have it, honey. When you don't stink like cigarettes, at least. Let's go dance." Brittany says, scrunching her nose up instead of kissing her. She takes both of Santana's hands and leads her back toward the dance floor.

"Sorry I smoked, Britt-Britt," Santana says, leaning forward as they walk to kiss the back of her wife's neck.

"It's not okay, Santana," Brittany says, turning her head over her shoulder as they hover in the doorway of the bar. "But I wants to get my dance on, okay?" Brittany says.

"Your wish is my demand," Santana says, nodding her head definitively at Brittany.

* * *

Rachel and Quinn are dancing together, sort of, their bodies just out of touching distance. They're both trying to avoid eye contact, meaning that they both are awkwardly looking at the floor. Santana and Brittany keep their distance, picking the perfect position to spy on their friends yet stay out of sight. Santana wraps her hands around Brittany's waist, opting to dance closely this time instead of letting Brittany pull out her wild moves. Rachel and Quinn have finished their drinks so they're now empty handed and they both seem to be struggling to find something to do with their hands.

"This is going to be a disaster," Santana whispers into Brittany's ear.

"You shouldn't have given them those Hurricane's." Santana pulls away from Brittany so that she can look her in the eye.

"I may have also taken a Tequila shot with them when you were in the bathroom."

"I know, San," Brittany says, kissing Santana gently, "you taste like college." Santana blushes. "They're doing _all _the wrong things," Brittany says glancing over at Quinn and Rachel again. "They have to dance a _little_ closer together if they don't want to get hit on by other people in the next five minutes."

"I know. Cute Latina in the fedora has been checking out Rachel for ten minutes. I think she's plotting a plan of action." They turn so that Brittany can get a view of what Santana is talking about.

"Oh no. She just bought a Hurricane," Brittany says. "Three, two, one," she counts down, turning so that Santana can get a view again.

"She's made her move. Lame. Totally passive."

"What's she doing?"

"Dancing awkwardly behind Berry."

"Worst Lezzie move ever."

"Here we go. Quinn's made eye contact. Girl has hand on Berry's waist. Berry looks like she's been hit in her beak." Brittany spins them around again.

"I want to see!" She says. "Rachel is going for it. Quinn is backing away. Quinn is now doing the awkward 'I was dancing with my friend but now I'm alone move'. Oh no. Oh no."

"What?" Santana says, moving away from Brittany so she can see her face again.

"Quinn has backed into predatory brunette. Predatory brunette is smirking. Quinn is apologizing. Yup, now they're dancing."

"We need to get drinks," Santana says into Brittany's ear.

"Tequila?" Brittany asks. Santana smirks and grabs her hand, dragging her to the bar.

They wait in line for what feels like forever, and Santana gets them each two shots, which they throw back immediately.

"Where the fuck are Berry and Quinn?" Santana asks Brittany as she turns away from the bar and back toward the dance floor.

"Quinn stormed away from predatory brunette. Rachel followed."

"I hope they didn't go to the bathroom." Santana says.

"We'll never see them again." Brittany says with the slight hint of disbelief. She grasps Santana's hand and leads them back to the dance floor.

* * *

"What was that, Quinn?" Rachel says, storming up to Quinn in the bathroom line.

"No cutting!" A butch blond in a Dodger's shirt and baggy black jeans says, glaring at Rachel.

"I'm sorry, I'm not cutting in the line, thank you very much, I just have to speak with my…friend…here." Rachel says, glaring right back at the woman.

"What was what, Rachel?" Quinn asks, rolling her eyes as they shuffle forward in the bathroom line.

"You. Dancing with that girl."

"You were dancing with someone else too." Quinn says, looking over Rachel's shoulder. They shuffle forward in line again.

"Yes, but only because she sneak attacked me and I didn't want to be rude!"

"Didn't want to be rude? Is that what you call grinding your ass into some random girl? Politeness?"

"Well, yes, when that is the form of dancing going on around me."

"It doesn't matter, Rachel, you're allowed to dance with whomever you want. I don't know why you followed me in here." They shuffle forward again, so that now they're next to the security guy watching the bathrooms. Rachel doesn't know what to say, so they stand in silence. A fight breaks out on the other side of the bathroom and security guy rushes away to deal with it. One of the stalls opens up and Quinn rushes in, with Rachel tight at her heels.

"One at a time!" The butch lesbian yells after them.

"Rachel, you can't follow me in here!" Quinn says after Rachel shuts the door. "I actually have to pee."

"So pee," Rachel says.

"Not in front of you!"

"Quinn, I've seen all of you, there really is no reason to be modest."

"That's different! Will you turn around at least?" Quinn hisses at Rachel. Rachel turns around but still doesn't hear any peeing. "Now I'm having pee-anxiety. Can you make some noise or something?" Rachel starts singing 'How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria', until Quinn flushes the toilet.

"I followed you in here, because I don't understand why you invited me out tonight so that I can watch you dance with another girl! Was it to flaunt how comfortable you are with your sexuality in my face? To show me that you don't really need me at all? Because, Quinn, there are certainly less hurtful ways for you to have sent that message to me."

"What? No!" Quinn says. "I can't believe you would think that! I invited you here, Rachel, because I _like _spending time with you, all I want to do is spend time with you, and I didn't want to go out with my best friends to my first night at a lesbian club as a…non-straight woman…without sharing it with you!" Quinn stops, her gaze steely at Rachel.

"Then why won't you dance with me?" Rachel asks softly, taken aback.

"I didn't want to overstep my bounds," Quinn says, sighing. "I meant it when I said I wanted to date you," She looks Rachel in the eyes. "But, I don't know how to do this whole, lesbian dating thing. Do I ask you to dance? Do I just assume that it's okay to start, you know, _grinding_ up on you like every other person is doing in here?"

"Quinn, I love you," Rachel says, the frustration apparent in her voice. She takes Quinn's hand and puts it to her chest. "You know this. I've told you this time and time again. I don't understand what…" Rachel is cut off by Quinn's lips on hers, pressing her against the door of the bathroom stall. This kiss isn't like the one from the other night. This is frantic, sloppy, and drunk, closer to those kisses they shared in Big Bear than the ones last week on the couch. They're desperate and pleading and taste like desire and sadness and relief. Quinn trails her hand down Rachel's collarbone, resting her thumb just above her breast and slides her leg in between Rachel's, gasping into her mouth as Rachel involuntarily moans.

"I missed this," Rachel whispers, her voice stilted and deep.

"So much," Quinn says, kissing her again, a little softer this time. She trails her hand down Rachel's sides, feeling the muscles in her stomach contract against her fingertips. Rachel has one hand tangled in Quinn's hair, the other grasps at the fabric of Quinn's dress at the small of her back.

"One at a time!" A deep male voice bellows against the door, banging on it. They break apart, looking at one another in shock until Rachel starts laughing.

"This is embarrassing," she says.

"And typical. Making out in the bathroom at a lesbian bar. Santana's taught me my lesbian stereotypes, and trust me, this is one of them."

"Should we face the music?" Rachel asks. Quinn grins and nods.

"Wait a second," Quinn says as Rachel unlocks the door. She leans in and kisses her, just a peck this time, and holds out her hand. Rachel beams up at her, interlacing their fingers. "You know I still want to date like a normal person, Rach," Quinn says as they exit the bathroom.

Brittany and Santana are next in line for the bathroom. Brittany is leaning against the wall and Santana is facing her, away from the stalls. She kisses her slowly and sweetly; their slow romantic kisses seem out of place amidst the hip-hop and sweat and intense grinding occurring elsewhere in the club.

"San," Brittany says, pulling away from the kiss, her thumb on Santana's cheek.

"Is it my turn? I hate the one-person rule here. Do they think lesbians are incapable of just sharing a stall? You're my wife for god's sake." Her eyes are still shut as she speaks, slowly and softly, still in a daze.

"Look over there," Brittany whispers into Santana's ear. She opens her eyes and looks over her shoulder, just in time to see a security guard guiding Rachel and Quinn out of a stall, their hands intertwined.

"Nice job, ladies," Santana says, smirking as they approach the sinks. The security guard tries to guide Santana into the now empty stall. She looks at him like he's lost it. "Hell no am I going in that one," she glares at him and waits for another stall to open up.

* * *

"Y'all are a mess," Gracie says, watching her sister and Santana slowly sip their coffee the next morning.

"Why are you still here, Grace?" Santana asks.

"Wow, Santana. I always know you're mad when you call me Grace. And I'm here because I _thought_ it would be nice to have some family time. Like you said, Santana, I hardly ever come over here, so I thought I'd just stay for the weekend." Santana looks at Gracie separately.

"Who are you avoiding at school?" Santana asks. "Are you flunking out?"

"She and Jamal broke up," Daisy says, ignoring the glare Gracie is sending her.

"Who's Jamal?" Brittany asks.

"Her ex-boyfriend."  
"Thanks, Daisy." Gracie says, sarcastically. "So…can I stay the weekend or not?"

"Of course you can stay, Grace. You know you're always welcome here. You too, Daisy."

"Thanks, Britt," Gracie says. "To be honest, I'm surprised you guys are such a mess. You were back surprisingly early last night."

"Santana got us kicked out of the bar."

"Did not!" Santana says, lifting her head up from the table.

"What'd she do this time?" Grace asks. "Fight with some girl for dancing with you? Break into hysterics because _she _danced with another girl?"

"She touched one of the bartenders boob."

"No I didn't!" Santana says, lifting her head up again. "They were doing their sexy-stripper dance on the bar and I put a dollar in her bra! It's totally acceptable."

"You full on groped her." Quinn says.

"Yeah, then you cried about it." Brittany says, smirking. "Then you cried that you lost the bet."

"Whatever," Santana says, laying her head back down on the cool table.

"I'll never understand why you married her," Gracie says to Brittany.

"You love me," Santana says, her voice muffled by the table.

"So, we're going to use your babysitting services for the next several hours while we sleep off the rest of this hangover," Brittany says, plopping Nico down in Gracie's lap. "And I cash in on my bet. Quinn, you're welcome to take the guest bedroom if you'd like, I know the couch you slept on last night isn't the most comfortable."

"Thanks, Britt, but I should be heading home. I'll see you Wednesday for Lily's guitar lesson?"

"Actually, I'm not going to be home Wednesday afternoon. Working."

"Okay, then I'll see you next Saturday."

"What's happening next Saturday?" Santana asks as Quinn gathers her belongings and walks toward the front of the house.

"We're babysitting Quinn's kids, remember? We agreed to it last night."

"Fabray!" Santana yells at Quinn's retreating body. "I did _not_ agree to that!" Quinn shuts the door behind her before Santana has the chance to say anything else.

"It was your idea, Santana. You wanted to get used to having more kids in the house."

"I'm never drinking again," Santana says, running her hands through her hair.

"Let's get you back to bed, sweetheart," Brittany says, helping Santana out of her chair. She ignores her sister's protests as she takes Santana up the stairs.

* * *

"Quinn is going to be over soon!" Rachel says, the next weekend, looking at the clock in her bedroom. "We have to make clothing decisions _now_, Kurt."

"Stop trying to rush the process, Rachel. And, pause, Quinn is picking you up?"

"Yes," Rachel says, turning to look at Kurt.

"She's picking you up to take you to a show and to dinner?"

"That was the plan, last I spoke to her."

"This is serious, Rachel!" Kurt squeals. "This is like serious date material. Oh my god, I just got so much more excited."

"I told you, Kurt! Why did you think I needed you here for moral support?"

"Let's be real, Rachel. You've always needed me for moral support. This was hardly a surprise."

"Please just find me something to wear."

* * *

"Thanks so much for doing this," Quinn says to Brittany and Santana as she follows her daughters running into the house.

"Of course!" Brittany says, taking some of the bags off of Quinn's hands.

"Well, I was drunk when I agreed to this, so consider yourself lucky, Q," Santana says. They walk toward the living room where the girls have dropped their things. "Where are you taking her, anyway?" Santana asks, catching the basketball Lily has been bouncing in mid-air. "No sports in the house, Bug. You know that." Santana says, interrupting herself.

"_In the Heights_ is back at the Pantages, so we're going to see that and then to The Bazaar."

"Woah, Q, that shit's fancy. And expensive," Santana says, trying, and failing, to twirl Lily's basketball on her finger. She's never really been the sporty type.

"Well, I am making 4 million dollars a year in alimony so I might as well spend it on something nice?" Quinn asks, rhetorically, looking a little unsure as the words leave her mouth.

"Why don't we ever go anywhere nice?" Brittany jokingly asks Santana, nudging her shoulder.

"Because we aren't making 4 million dollars a year in alimony, B. However, I believe we are accruing some babysitting credits tonight, so maybe we should splurge for some Little Dom's next week?" Brittany nods. "I know you could eat some Rice Balls, B." Brittany grins.

"And rigatoni?" Brittany asks. Santana nods. "And maybe some artichokes and a bottle of Chianti?"

"Anything for my wife," Santana says, laughing her just-for-Brittany guttural laugh.

"It's a date," Brittany says, grinning.

* * *

"Kurt!" Quinn says when he opens the door, her eyes widening with surprise, then quickly turning into more of a smirk.

"Quinn! I'm sorry, I know you didn't expect me here, I just needed to borrow something from Rachel, but I'll be on my way now."

"What could you possibly have to borrow? Rachel hardly has anything in her apartment."

"Oh, you know, some sheet music and other important things!" Kurt grins at Quinn, knowing full well that she sees right through him. "Why don't you come in," he says with a flourish as he opens the door. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Kurt," Quinn says, nodding her head at him.

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel says as she steps off the last step and into her kitchen-living room. "You look lovely tonight."

"Thanks, Rach. You too." Quinn says, her smile wide but her voice quiet.

"Well, Kurt," Rachel says, looking pointedly at the grinning man in front of her. "I'm glad you had that sheet music I was looking for," Rachel says, her nose scrunching as Kurt shakes his head and points back and forth between them behind Quinn's back.

"I'm just going to go!" Kurt says. "Have fun, ladies."

"Are you ready?" Quinn asks Rachel, her smile soft and hopeful.

"Let me just get my purse."

* * *

"So, ladies, I have an idea," Brittany says to the girls after they get their things situated in the guest bedroom. "When Aunt S and I were teenagers, our favorite thing was to have breakfast for dinner. What do you think about doing that tonight?"

"How can we have breakfast for dinner? Does that mean we don't get dinner until tomorrow morning?" Harper asks.

"No, silly," Santana says, placing a hand on Harper's head. "It means we get breakfast food instead of dinner food tonight!"

"So can we have burgers for breakfast tomorrow?" Lily asks. Santana looks at Brittany.

"I don't see why not! So…what would you like: waffles, French toast, or pancakes?"

"Waffles!" All three scream.

"Okay! Waffles it is! Why don't you go play outside while we start dinner, okay girls?" The three girls bound through the sliding doors to the backyard where Brittany and Santana can see them while they cook dinner.

"You're a genius, Britt." Santana says, watching the girls play in the yard.

"I know. Now, do you want to be on waffle duty or eggs and bacon duty?"

"Eggs and bacon," Santana says.

"Mama help." Nico says, bored with the game he was playing with Olivia on the floor. Santana and Brittany had spent months trying to figure out what exactly the game was; it involved a sponge, a bowl of water, and cheerios, and they seemed endlessly entertained by it. Brittany picks him up and places him on the counter next to her while Santana cracked eggs into a large mixing bowl.

"Oh, look at my grandson, helping his mama cook!" Maria says, entering the kitchen. She places a kiss on Nico's head as he dumps a cup of flour into a mixing bowl, as per Brittany's instructions.

"Woah, Maria, you look amazing," Brittany says, taking in her mother-in-law's outfit.

"Seriously, mom, do you have another date with salsa-man?" Santana asks.

"It's not a date, Santana. We're just going to dinner. Are you girls making breakfast for dinner? And are Quinn's girls playing Vampirates?" Maria asks, glancing out the window. Brittany hands Nico another cup of flour that he diligently dumps in the bowl, grinning up at his mother.

"Yes. To both questions, I think," Santana says, looking out of the window as the doorbell rings.

"It's amazing how some things never do change. Well, I have to get going," Maria says, leaning down to the ground to give Olivia a kiss and then placing one on Nico's head.

"Invite salsa-man inside! We want to meet him!" Brittany says, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I don't think he's quite ready for that," Maria says. "Bye girls! Have fun."

"So much for my mother moving in with us to provide a little extra help around the house." Santana scoffs.

"That's what we have this one for," Brittany grins, gesturing to Nico who has somehow managed to cover his entire face with flour.

"Help mama!" He squeals.

"I know, you are such a big help, baby," Brittany says, dampening a paper towel and gently wiping off his face.

"Look at you, helping your mama," Santana smirks to Nico, walking over and kissing his damp cheek.

"Crazy mami," he says, giggling while she places butterfly kisses on his chubby cheeks.

"You taught him that one, Britt," Santana says.

"You know it. He learns from the best," Brittany grins and they return to their cooking.

* * *

"You know, I have to admit, I've never seen _In The Heights_," Rachel says as they ride in Quinn's car after the show.

"You're kidding."

"I'm serious. I somehow missed that one," Rachel says.

"Well, did you like it?"

"It was perfect."

"So, I made reservations at The Bazaar," Quinn begins, trying to feel Rachel out, "but San and Britt were talking about going to Little Dom's next week, and I was thinking you might want to do something a little more casual?"

"I'd like that," Rachel says. "Although is Little Dom's really that casual?"

"Compared to The Bazaar, it is. We used to go there in our twenties when we first started having some expendable income, and it's always been one of our favorite restaurants."

"Let's do it then."

"Little Dom's it is. It's really a shame you can't eat those Rice Balls. They're delicious."

"I have to admit, whenever I smell that melted cheese in them, I get a little jealous."

"Well, they are to die for."

* * *

They put the twins to bed soon after dinner and let the girls decide what they wanted to do. Lily wanted to play guitar with Santana, Hannah wanted to read, and Harper wanted to watch _101 Dalmations_ with Brittany.

"Can you guys please _not_ play so loud?" Hannah asks Lily and Santana. "I'm trying to read."

"Why don't you come join us, Bean?" Santana asks.

"I don't play the guitar." Hannah says, simply.

"Well, hobbit tells me that you have quite the voice on you. Why don't you sing a song with us, then we can show Aunt B tonight and your mom tomorrow."

"Rachel said I have a good voice?" Hannah asks, her eyes opening wide as she looks at Santana.

"The best," Santana says. "She says that it's way better than her voice was at your age."

"Maybe we could try that," Hannah says, quietly placing her book down.

"That's my girl," Santana says, gesturing for Hannah to come join her and Lily. "Now, to begin, I'm going to tell you a little story about Fleetwood Mac, possibly the greatest band to ever live…" Hannah and Lily sit crosslegged in front of Santana and listens to her story.

* * *

"This is nice," Rachel says, holding Quinn's hand across the table. Quinn nods.

"I'm glad you like it." They sit in awkward silence for too long.

"You know, this is ridiculous," Rachel says. "We've spent _countless_ hours with one another over the last year, not too mention the fact that we've _known_ one another for fifteen years, and suddenly, when we're 'dating', it becomes awkward."

"You're right," Quinn says through a chuckle. "Maybe we're better off as friends." She looks at her menu before allowing one eye to smirk up at Rachel. "Kidding." She says simply, a smile forming on her lips.

"That was mean, Quinn Fabray. I thought you grew out of that."

"Never. Now, to begin, Justin was always a fan of the Pinot Grigio, but I have always loved the $13 house red. What do you say?"

"This is your place, Quinn. I'm going to trust your word for it."

"Well if that's the case, I might as well order for the both of us."

"I would love to see what Quinn Fabray's ideal Little Dom's meal for two looks like."

"Then allow me to show you, Rachel Berry." She squeezes Rachel's hand. Somehow the awkwardness at the table seems diffused, even if it's temporary. "Oh my god, Rach, I have to tell you what Hannah said to me the other day!" Quinn says excitedly.

"Ah, my budding star, do tell!" Rachel says. Quinn leans back and excitedly begins her story, waiting for the waiter to come and take her order.

* * *

"We started a band!" Lily says, as Brittany and Harper enter the living room after _101 Dalmations _ends.

"Did you?" Brittany asks with a smirk. Hannah nods.

"We're awesome. We're just called the Stevies after the greatest singer-songwriter Stevie Nicks."

"I see Aunt S gave you her history of Fleetwood Mac," Brittany says, giggling. She sits down on the couch, placing a sleepy Harper in her lap. "I'm assuming we're going to get a show?" Brittany asks.

"Obviously," Santana says. The three take their positions and they start playing 'The Chain' with Santana on lead guitar, Lily strumming out the basic rhythms, Hannah singing and Santana harmonizing with her. Brittany can't help but giggle a little bit when they get to the guitar solo and Santana seems a little too into it, considering that she's playing with a six and eight year old. When they're finished, Harper and Brittany give them a loud round of applause, complete with squealing.

"You guys were brilliant!" Brittany says, hugging Lily and then Harper. "I think it's time for bed now, though.

* * *

Eating vegan at Little Dom's turns out to be a little more complicated than Quinn expected, but they manage to make it work by asking for a lot of dishes without the cheese. (Really, who is expected to eat Italian food without parmesan cheese?)

"My god," Rachel says, biting into a carrot, "this is just a carrot, but it is delicious. Do you think they cooked these carrots in heaven?" Rachel asks Quinn through a grin. "I'm a Jew. We don't even believe in heaven."

"I told you. This place is to die for. You won't need heaven, you already ate one of their carrots." They've mostly finished eating, leaving half-eaten plates of appetizers and entrees scattered around the table. Now, for the final course."

"I can't, Quinn. I just don't think I can do dessert. Plus, most dessert isn't vegan."

"This is better than dessert, Rach," Quinn says. The waiter comes to their table.

"Can I interest you in a dessert menu, ladies," he asks politely.

"You know, I think we'll just have the Cascina Ca Rossa and the bill," Quinn says.

"Ah," the waiter says, "good choice. "Violet, rose, raspberry, romantic…"

"Just like it says on the menu," Quinn points out.

"Indeed. Did you need one glass or two."

"I think one will be fine," Quinn says, smiling politely at the waiter.

"You're full of surprises, Quinn Fabray."

"So are you, Rachel Berry."

* * *

"I'm so fucking tired, B," Santana says. "So tired. I love Quinn's kids, but I _hate _Quinn's kids." She pours herself a glass on wine and gestures to Brittany, seeing if she wants want too. Brittany simply nods her head. "At least they were _significantly_ better than the last time we babysat."

"I understand. I never thought I would understand, but I understand now." Brittany says, as they take a seat on the couch, Brittany curling up into Santana's shoulder.

"Are you sure we should do this whole, expanding the family thing? I mean, today was miserable." Santana is joking, but Brittany looks at her with seriousness in her eyes.

"San, honey, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," she says, stroking Santana's cheek. "I mean, you know I want a large family, but I'm flexible as long as my family includes _you_. I've been doing a lot of research into adoption, and I understand if you want to wait awhile to fill out applications or find an agent, but we _really_ don't have to do anything unless you're comfortable with it."

"Woah, Brittany," Santana says, turning to face her wife and wrapping her arms around her waist. "Quinn's kids are crazy. Our kids are awesome. I told you I wanted to carry our next child because I _want _to, baby. This has nothing to do with that."

"Are you sure?"

"100%." Santana says, kissing Brittany lightly on the nose. "Should we watch something?" Santana asks.

"Nah. I kind of like being here in the quiet with you."

"I like that too, B." Santana takes a sip of her wine and just enjoys her quiet space with her wife.

* * *

"Thanks so much for tonight, Quinn. I had a really great time."

"Me too, Rach. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me." They sit in Quinn's car in silence, the engine quietly running.

"You thanked me for that already," Quinn said softly, letting the silence linger between them.

"Would you like to come up for a drink?" Rachel asks Quinn, noting that Quinn has turned off the ignition. "No pressure, of course."

"I'd like that," Quinn says, taking the keys out of the ignition. They walk to the building in silence, their hands clasped together. Every once in awhile, Quinn glances down at their intertwined fingers and can't help but smirk.

"Would you like red or white?" Rachel asks as they walk into the living room.

"Red would be great," Quinn says. Rachel pours them both a glass of wine and presses play on her iPod dock. She immediately turns bright red when Barbra Streisand's _Evergreen_ begins to play through her speakers. She jumps up, nearly spilling her wine in her haste to turn off the music.

"I'm so sorry about that," Rachel says, nervously laughing to hid her embarrassment.

"It's fine, Rach. I spent three years in a Glee club with you and Kurt Hummel. I'm used to a little Babs now and then." Quinn says, smirking. Quinn joins her at the iPod dock, shuffling through her music together.

"Sade?" Quinn asks.

"Are you asking me if I want to play Sade, or are you surprised that I _have_ Sade?" Rachel asks, slightly indignant. "To be honest, Quinn, I'm surprised that _you_ know Sade." Rachel says, starting _By Your Side_ on her Sade/John Legend playlist that Kurt had affectionately dubbed the "Rachel Gets It On" mix. She, of course, didn't let Quinn see that part. They sit back down on the couch.

"It's Santana. If Sade is playing in her house, she's either having sex or crying. Sometimes both."

"Let's not talk about how weirdly emotional Santana is. I'm just getting used to it."

"You never will," Quinn says laughing, swirling her wine in her glass. They sit in silence as the song changes to John Legend's _I Love You Love_. "Is this, like, a hookup mix, Rachel?"

"No."

"It so is," Quinn says, smiling nervously to herself. She places her wine on the table. As the chorus swells, she places her hand on Rachel's cheek, running her thumb down her cheekbone, then just barely across Rachel's bottom lip.

"I had a really good time tonight," Quinn whispers.

"I did too," Rachel whispers back. Quinn's eyes flit up from Rachel's lips to her eyes, her heart racing as though she's never done this before. Rachel leans in, surprising Quinn, pressing their lips together, gently. Quinn tastes like red wine and a little like Altoids. Rachel reaches around to Quinn's waist, pulling them closer together, as close as possible when sitting side-by-side on a couch. The song hasn't ended as the kiss deepens; their lips part slightly and they're breathing one another in through the kiss, their tongues moving together gently. Rachel shifts her body so that she is fully facing Quinn, holding her tightly around the waist. She breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at Quinn. Quinn's eyes are shut, her face a mix of content and expectant. It takes a moment for Quinn to realize that they've stopped kissing. Her eyes flutter open and she rests a hand on Rachel's cheek again.

"Is this okay?" Quinn asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why do you think I invited you up?" Rachel says, running her thumb along Quinn's bottom lip. "Come here," she says, moving so that her back is against the arm of the couch. Quinn gingerly moves closer toward her, so that her back leans against Rachel's leg. She runs her hand up Rachel's other leg that is dangling off the couch.

"I'm going to kiss you again," Quinn says. Rachel just nods as Quinn kisses her. Rachel smiles into the kiss.

"I'm okay with that," she says into Quinn's lips.

* * *

"We should start planning Nico and Olivia's birthday party." Brittany says. She's lying in Santana's lap, humming along to the Joni Mitchell album playing. Santana is reading a book, her arm fully extended because she's not wearing her reading glasses. Santana puts her book down on the coffee table. "I think it should be dinosaur themed since they both are so into their dinosaur toys lately." Santana nods, absentmindedly playing with Brittany's hair. "Maybe we can get someone dressed as a dinosaur to come, You know, instead of clowns?" Santana nods again. "And have ice cream cake. And Mercedes will have had her baby by then. And maybe we can invite everyone from their 'Mommy and Me' class." Santana nods. "Why are you being so quiet, San?" She cranes her head up to look at Santana, reaching up to tuck a dark strand of her that has fallen out of place behind her ear.

"You're pretty," Santana whispers, leaning down to peck her on the lips. "I want to have sex."

"You're so romantic, Santana."

"Hey! I can be romantic!"

"I know you can, honey," Brittany says, leaning up to give Santana a longer kiss this time. Santana immediately grabs Brittany's breast with her left hand.

"Santana!"

"What?" Santana asks, feigning innocence and not removing her hand from Brittany's breast. "Wasn't it like in our vows that I could feel you up whenever I want?"

"I must have missed that part," Brittany says coyly, kissing Santana again. "You know I'm not an audacious learner," she says. Santana can't help but note that Brittany is a little out of breath when she says it, and that she hasn't moved her hand yet.

"Auditory," Santana mumbles out into Brittany's lips.

"Knock, knock!" Maria says as she opens the door. Brittany sits up. It doesn't matter that they're adults and married now, she still really doesn't like the idea of Maria catching them making out on the couch. Santana groans.

"God! My mother is _still_ such a cockblock." Brittany scrunches her nose up at the term.

"They must be asleep already," Maria whispers in the foyer. Brittany and Santana's eyes lock, wide with surprise. Santana puts her finger to her lips, excited to bust her mother after so many years of the reverse. They hear the door shut again and quiet footsteps make their way into the hallway.

"Why, hello, mom," Santana says, smirking from the couch when Maria and salsa-man walk into the dimly lit living room.

"Santana! Brittany!" Maria says, clearly embarrassed as she stops in her tracks.

"Hi, Maria!" Brittany says, cheerily waving at her mother-in-law. "Hi, salsa-man!" Santana grins.

"I thought you were asleep." Maria says. Santana smirks again. She has never seen her mother this flustered.

"We were getting ready to go upstairs," Santana says. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Santana rises, and Brittany follows her.

"I'm so sorry." Maria says, mostly to salsa-man. "This is my daughter, Santana," Santana extends her hand to him, "and her wife, Brittany. Ladies, this is Frank, my friend from dance class."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Frank!" Brittany says, still beaming. "Now we can stop calling you salsa-man when we talk about you!" Santana is sure her mother is blushing right now, and after all the years Maria took pleasure in embarrassing her, Santana has never felt more satisfied.

"Likewise," Frank says, smiling slightly to himself.

"Well, kids," Santana says, "we're on our way to bed." She takes Brittany's hand and walks toward the stairs. "Don't stay up too late! And don't forget to turn out the lights!" Brittany giggles as they walk toward the bedroom together.

"I wonder if this is what it will be like when Nico and Olivia are teenagers?" Brittany asks as they enter their bedroom.

"Hell no am I letting Nico or Olivia alone with anyone of the opposite sex when they're teenagers."

"What if one of them is gay?"

"When Nico and Olivia are teenagers, I will follow them around everywhere they go. They'll never be alone with anyone, ever." Brittany giggles and pushes Santana down into their bed.

"Are you afraid they'll meet a sex-dolphin like you, San?" Brittany teases, pulling her shirt over her head as she speaks. Santana opens her mouth, but no audible sounds come out as Brittany unclasps her bra and throws it on the floor. "What's wrong, honey? Did Lord Tubbington IV eat your tongue again?" Brittany whispers into Santana's ear, trailing a line of kisses down her neck and collarbone.

"That's gross, Britt," Santana says, moving away from her wife for long enough to take off her own shirt and bra, then quickly wiggling out of her pants.

"Someone really does want to have sex," Brittany says, amazed by how quickly Santana disrobed. She straddles Santana's hipbones, running her fingertips gently up her waist and then around the curve of her breasts. Santana arches into Brittany's touch.

"Please, baby," is all Santana manages to get out. Brittany leans down and gently places her lips around Santana's nipple, hardly applying any pressure but letting her tongue flit out against it every once and awhile, her hot breath causing her nipple to harden inside Brittany's mouth. "Brittany," Santana moans, exasperated. "Stop teasing me," she says, tangling her left hand in Brittany's blond hair to push her lips closer to her left breast and using her free hand to grab at her right breast.

"No touching yourself," Brittany says, her mouth barely lifting off of Santana's nipple. The feeling of her hot breath just over the wet skin causes Santana to moan again. "This should teach you a little lesson about romance, Santana," Brittany says, standing up and taking her pants and underwear off.

"Baby, I don't think this is the meaning of romance," Santana says, squirming on top of their comforter as Brittany gets naked in front of her.

"Well, I'm going to teach you a lesson in something," Brittany says, crawling back on to the bed and pushing Santana's arms over her head. She sits on Santana's hips so that their bodies are nearly touching, but she keeps herself lifted about half-an-inch away from her. Santana groans, bucking her hips toward Brittany, who just lifts herself up further on her strong, dancer's legs. "Nah-uh," she says, smirking as Santana squirms beneath her. She leans down again so that her mouth is grazing Santana's and their nipples barely press together. "I'm teaching the lesson tonight, San," Brittany says, closing the distance between their lips for a full, hard, kiss.

* * *

"Let's go upstairs," Rachel says into Quinn's neck. Rachel is on Quinn's lap, her top thrown somewhere across the room. Quinn's dress has been scrunched up past her thighs to nearly her hip bones, and down past her breasts to nearly her stomach, so that it now resembles a large body scrunchie. She moans as Rachel continues sucking on her neck, her left hand cupping Quinn's breast and her thumb drawing tiny, light circles around her nipple.

"Can't," Quinn says, still involuntarily bucking into Rachel's hips.

"Yes you can," Rachel pants into Quinn, guiding her free hand up Quinn's inner thigh. Quinn quickly grabs her wrist.

"No, Rach, we really can't," Quinn says, pulling away.

"Why?" Rachel asks, seeking Quinn's eyes. Seeing her glassy eyes, Quinn quickly reaches up to touch Rachel's cheek reassuringly.

"I want to date you, Rachel." Quinn says, her voice low and serious.

"Isn't that what this is?"

"Of course, sweetie," Quinn says, immediately blushing at the accidental term of endearment. "You know that I want this," she says, her eyes grazing Rachel's half-naked body, "just as much as you do. I want this to be serious though, and I want…I want…you…I want you to be my girlfriend, eventually," Quinn finally finishes, quietly. "So, I want to be smart about this. You're already a huge part of my children's life, I don't want us to move too fast and ruin our already tenuous friendship and them suddenly to have lost their father and their Rachel. We were on the path to that happening before. So I want to be smart, for once, because, I want to be in this for the long haul, Rach…if you do, of course." Rachel lifts Quinn's chin with her hand and places a light kiss on Quinn's lips.

"I'm already in this for the long haul." Rachel says, slowly climbing off of Quinn. She pulls some sheets and a blanket out from a nearby closet. "Let me make the couch up for you to sleep on."

"I can do that, Rachel," Quinn says, taking the sheets and a pillow from Rachel's hands. "You should probably get in a cold shower." Quinn says smirking. Rachel blushes.

"Now that's all you'll be thinking about while you're trying to get to sleep," Rachel smirks.

"I can't think of a better dream," Quinn says, her voice husky again, looking at Rachel with eyes filled with lust. She kisses her gently.

"Okay." Rachel says, pulling away, and uselessly straightening out Quinn's disheveled dress. "I'm going to bed." Quinn nods.

"Goodnight, Rach."

"Night, Quinn."

"I love you," Quinn says quietly. Rachel smiles. It's small and nervous and Quinn can't help but find it adorable.

"I love you too,' Rachel says, kissing Quinn one last time. "See you in the morning!" She sings as she walks up the stairs. Quinn shakes her head, smiling to herself, and makes up the couch.


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: **Thanks for your reviews. Not much happening in this chapter, just sort of leading in to the final chapters. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Quinn shakes her head at the sound of vocal exercises resonating through her house. She's cooking dinner and Rachel is giving Hannah a voice lesson. She's pretty sure that the sound is echoing more than usual because of the emptiness of the house; there are packed boxes everywhere, some furniture has already been moved, and nothing hangs on the walls anymore.

"Mom, Hannah sounds _so_ annoying," Lily says, walking into the kitchen, big headphones covering her ears.

"Where did you even get those?" Quinn says, taking the oversize headphones off of Lily's head.

"Aunt S. She says they're totally cool and vintage." Quinn rolls her eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

"Can't focus, mom, they're too annoying."

"Put the headphones back on and go up to your room. I know you can't hear them from there, Lil." Quinn says.

"Can I help you with dinner instead?"

"Wow, someone must really not want to do her homework is she's offering to help." Lily shrugs.

"We'll work on it together after we eat, okay, Lily?" Lily doesn't respond, just scrambles to grab the stool the girls use when they help their mother cook. "Lillian?" Quinn asks.

"Yeah, mom, sure." Lily says, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you," Quinn says, smiling down at her daughter. "Can you grate this cheese for me?" Lily nods and Quinn ruffles her hair before returning to her cooking.

"This ain't cheese, mom," Lily says, picking up the wedge of cashew cheese.

"Lily. This _isn't_ cheese." Quinn shakes her head. "I really need to limit the amount of time you spend with Santana," she says under her breath, mostly to herself, as she returns to her cooking.

* * *

"So, Maria, when are you going to invite salsa-man over for dinner?" Brittany asks as they sit down for dinner.

"Oh," Maria says, blushing, "I don't know if we're ready for that just yet, dear. How's that music video you're working on?"

"Clever, mom, trying to change the subject," Santana says. "Seriously, invite him over for dinner, we want to meet the man you've been off galavanting with."

"We're not galavanting."

"How about Wednesday evening?"

"Santana."

"Mom, as long as you live under my roof, I have the right to know what kind of company you're keeping." Santana says, smirking.

"I can't wait until they're teenagers," Maria says, gesturing to the children. "I'm going to have so much fun. The fights in this house…they're going to be epic."

"That's not nice, Maria," Brittany says. "We just want to meet your boyfriend."

"First of all, Brittany, you have met him. Second of all, I'm 65 years old, I don't think we can call any men I'm around a boyfriend anymore."

"But you are dating him, then?" Brittany asks, with a mischievous smile.

"Fine, Wednesday is fine," Maria says exasperated. "If only it will get you girls to stop talking about it." Santana high-fives Brittany.

"Well played, baby."

"You know it," Brittany says, returning to her food.

* * *

"Smells good in here," Rachel says, holding Hannah's hand as they enter the kitchen.

"Did you hear me, mom?" Hannah asks Quinn, tugging on the hem of her dress.

"Of course, we all heard you, dork," Lily says.

"Lily!" Quinn scolds. "Be nice to your sister! And, yes, sweetheart, you sounded lovely," she says, looking at Hannah. "Dinner is almost ready, can you three go wash your hands?" The girls don't respond, just run out of the room chasing each other into the bathroom. "And don't run inside!" Quinn yells after them.

"It really does smell good, Quinn." Rachel says, leaning back against the counter next to where Quinn was working.

"Thank you," Quinn says, blushing a little. "It's vegan lasagna."

"Well, it smells delicious. Thanks so much for having me over." Quinn laughed.

"We have to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"This ridiculous thanking each other thing we do every time we're together. I love you," Quinn says, hesitating slightly but with a smile. She leans down a gives Rachel a soft, chaste kiss. "I _want _to spend time with you. As much time as possible."

"I love you too," Rachel says grinning. "God, it feels so good to say that! I love you, Quinn Fabray." They're about to kiss again before the girls come running in.

"I love you too, mommy!" Harper says. "And you too, Rach!"

"Oh, there is just so much love in this room," Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes as she hugs Harper. "Let's take this love to the table, I'm starving."

* * *

"I want to plan our next date," Brittany says as they sit on the couch scrolling through the instant stream options on Netflix.

"I thought we were doing Little Dom's?" Santana asks.

"Well that's what I wanted to do."

"So, wouldn't that be you planning our date?"

"No, I know you've have a lot of work lately, and you've taken me out on our last couple amazing dates, and I think it's your turn to be treated like a lady."

"You always treat me like a lady, Britt," Santana says, taking her eyes off the television to smile at her wife. "But, if you insist, I have no opposition to being taken out."

"Good," Brittany says, kissing Santana on the lips.

"Mom!" Santana quietly yells from the couch, careful not to wake the children. "Get in here so we can pick out a movie!" Brittany snuggles closer into Santana.

"I'll ask Quinn about babysitting," Brittany says.

"Sounds good, B." Santana says, placing a light kiss on Brittany's lips. Brittany smiles into the kiss, parting Santana's lips slightly with her tongue. "We're gonna watch a movie," Santana whispers into Brittany's lips as Brittany's fingers tangle in her hair, pulling them closer together.

"Your mom's not here yet," Brittany whispers back, leaning in again to connect their lips.

"You know, you're supposed to grow out of this at some point." Maria says as she walks into the living room. "I've been walking in on you two making out in living rooms for sixteen years."

"One, you were taking forever and we got bored. Two, it hasn't been that long, mom. You make us sound ancient."

"Oh, please, Santana. You two always thought you were so sneaky. Didn't you ever wonder why everyone in our family knew you were a lesbian? For someone who wanted so fiercely to stay in the closet, you certainly made out with Brittany in the most public of places."

"Whatever. Pick a movie, so I can go upstairs with my wife."

"You may be married now, but I still really don't want to hear about your sex life," Maria says, picking up the remote to flip through the Netflix options. Brittany trails her finger up and down Santana's arm. "Everyday I get more and more excited for those children wreaking havoc upon this household as teenagers. Turnabout is fair play, my Santana, and you know, one day, little Olivia will be making out on this very couch."

"Mom!" Santana yells. "Enough."

"It's true." Maria says. Look at my life."

"I really hope we have new couches by the time Olivia and Nico are thirty." Brittany says. Santana laughs, kisses Brittany on the lips, and settles in for the movie.

* * *

Rachel is sitting on top of Quinn, her legs straddling Quinn's lap. She kisses her softly, and rests her hand over Quinn's rapidly beating heart before moving her hand up to gently touch Quinn's lips, red and swollen from kissing.

"I think we're ready to take this to the bedroom," Rachel says, huskily, into Quinn's neck.

"I think so too," Quinn whispers. Rachel smiles. "But, not tonight."

"Quinn, I appreciate that you want to take things slow, and that you want to make sure this is serious, but I can't help but feel like the reason you are taking things _so_ slowly with me is that you aren't actually sure that you want to be with me."

"Honey, please calm down," Quinn says.

"No, Quinn, I'm not going to calm down."

"First of all, Rachel, my children are upstairs. That's the number one reason that this can't go any further tonight and why I need you to lower your voice. Now, please, hear me out." Rachel looks to the side, a little guilty, and takes a seat on the coffee table so she can face Quinn. "Can you imagine one of the kids walking in and finding their mom and their 'aunt' Rachel having sex? The confusion? When I have my first time with you, officially, as a couple, I want it to be beautiful and without inhibitions, and not while my children are sleeping upstairs."

"Are we a couple, then, Quinn. Officially?"

"I think so," Quinn says, "if it's alright with you?" Rachel nods, and leans over to the couch to kiss Quinn quickly.

"There's just a lot to think about, Rach, and you know that I've been working so hard to not be my usual, impulsive, take whatever I want whenever I want it, Quinn. Like, we have to explain this to the children. That we're dating, that mommy likes girls _and _boys, that this doesn't mean that she doesn't love daddy anymore. We have your career to think about. You're not out in the public, and even though it's common knowledge within the industry, that doesn't mean that your PR person isn't going to have something to say about you being in a slightly higher than normal profile relationship with a woman. Have you thought about that, Rach? Are you going to do some big coming out issue with The Advocate or are you going to intentionally stay closeted and get a beard for public events, or are you just going to play coy?"

"Quinn. I'm a working actor, but I'm far from a celebrity. Nobody _really_ cares about my personal life. If I really hit it big, you know, when I'm up for that Oscar, of course I will acknowledge who you are in my life. Until then, no one is really asking. I was thinking I would play it Jodie Foster style."

"I don't know what that means, Rachel." Quinn says, a smirk in her eyes.

"She was with her girlfriend for years, they had two children together, they lived together, and she never made an official coming out statement. The public put two and two together, of course. I mean, what heterosexual woman lives with her best friend and has two children by artificial insemination and refuses to speak about it…but, still, she was allowed to live her life and have a successful career. And that was twenty years ago."

"So, you're just not going to worry about it?"

"Exactly. My personal life is my personal life. I will never claim to be straight, and if the day comes that I feel like I'm lying, then I will change things. But, until then, no one is asking, so I'll take you to events and keep the children out of it and keep my personal life personal."

"You're really awesome, Rachel." Quinn says.

"I know." They kiss again, softly. "Well, I should go home. I'll see you this weekend?"

"Do you want to come by for dinner Thursday? Maybe help us pack?"

"I'd love to see you pack, Quinn Fabray," Rachel says with a smirk.

"Why do I think that I'm missing something?"

"You need to catch up on your lesbian street cred. Look it up after I go," Rachel says as she stands up. "Or call Santana. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to give you a detailed description. I'll see you Thursday." She kisses Quinn on the lips and walks toward the front of the house.

"Thursday, Rach. I love you, Rachel."

"I love you too, Quinn,' Rachel says, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

"Take a seat, Berry," Santana says, leaning into her desk to pull out a file.

"Santana, I have to insist that while we're together in a professional capacity that you call me either _Ms._ Berry or Rachel. No Berry, manhands or hobbit."

"Fine. I'll call you Ms. Berry, and you can only call me Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, Counselor Pierce-Lopez, Attorney-at-Law Pierce-Lopez, or just Santana 'comma' esquire."

"I'm not calling you any of those things, Santana," Rachel says, crossing her arms as she sits in her chair.

"Then I'll continue calling you 'hobbit'." Santana says simply.

"Fine. I pick Mrs. Pierce-Lopez."

"Thank you, _Ms._ Berry. Now, I asked to meet with you for two reasons today. The first is that I want to discuss the non-disclosure agreement for your guest spot on 'Doctors in the Hood'. And to question why you're guest starring on a TV show called 'Doctors in the Hood'. You do know you're better than that, right?" Santana asks, absentmindedly glancing over the paperwork.

"Was that a compliment, San-Mrs. Pierce-Lopez?"

"I don't do compliments, Ms. Berry. I simply question when my clients are making decisions that don't seem to suit their best interests."

"Well, that's what I have an agent and a manager and a PR person, and god knows who else my accountant is paying, for. You, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, are my lawyer, so if the contract looks good, that's all I need to know. What's the second reason we're meeting today?" Santana comes around the desk so that she's leaning against the front of it, like a police interrogator. Rachel shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"The second reason is your intentions with my good friend, my _best_ friend, Quinn Fabray."

"What, are you her father now?"

"No, I just look out for my own, and Quinn has been through enough this year, fuck this _lifetime_, without getting her heart broken again."

"Look, _Mrs. Pierce-Lopez_," Rachel says, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "You _know_ that I don't plan on doing anything to hurt Quinn. I've spent the better part of this year fighting _for_ Quinn. Why would I do anything to mess it up now? After all these years, I'd hope that you'd know me better than that." Rachel looks a little hurt. "You know, it would be nice if you sometimes played in my court too, Santana."

"Mrs. Pierce-Lopez." Santana corrects. Rachel crosses her arms over her chest, annoyed again. "That's all I wanted to hear," Santana says, shrugging. "Besides," she says, moving back to sit behind her desk, "you think I haven't already berated Quinn about this enough? She's my best friend—if anything, I'm meaner to her than I am to everyone else. Like I said, I look out for my clients." Rachel looks touched and Santana looks uncomfortable. "Now, what do you say we get down to business?"

"That was very nice, Santana."

"Drop it. Please. And call me Mrs. Pierce-Lopez."

"Aw. You like hearing your surname, don't you."

"Berry, I swear to god if you don't stop with this Mr. Rogers bullshit-"

"You'll what?" Rachel asks, interrupting her. "Cut me with the razors in your weave?"

"Just cut it out." Santana says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry _Mrs. Pierce-Lopez_. Let's get back to business. Now, what is this NDA I have to sign?"

* * *

"Knock-knock," Brittany says, walking into the office with a toddling Nico. "Your assistants are here to tell you it's time for lunch!" Brittany says. Santana can't stop the smile spreading up her cheeks.

"Britt, you know, just because I work from home now doesn't mean you can just walk in. I'm with a client."

"I knew it was just Rachel," Brittany says. "No offense, Rach. Plus, I really like seeing you in your lawyer costume." Brittany winks.

"Oh, where did you get these overalls, little man?" Rachel asks Nico as she picks him up and plops him in her lap. "Are they from your mami circa 2011?"

"His mami picked them out for him circa 2024," Brittany coos to Nico.

"Enough," Santana says simply.

"Oh, San, you like overalls. It's okay," Brittany says. "We all accepted that about you ages ago. Can you stay for lunch, Rach?"

"I wish I could, ladies, but I have to be in hair and makeup in an hour." Rachel says. Brittany and Santana nod.

"Before you leave, Rach, do you know if you and Q can babysit on Saturday? We're trying to cash in on some of those babysitting points…" Brittany winks over to Santana. Rachel blushes, suddenly at a loss for words. 'You and Q', as though they are a unit, collectively cashing in babysitting points. She knows Brittany wasn't thinking it when she said it, but she can't help but feel a little more like she's found a place where she belongs.

"Yo, earth to Berry!" Santana says from behind her desk, snapping her fingers. "Can you babysit or what?"

"Sorry," Rachel says, "I was distracted. I believe Justin has the girls this weekend so Quinn and I will be going out. Next week though?" Rachel asks. "And, I believe you're supposed to be calling me Ms. Berry."

"This meeting has been over ever since you started talking smack about my baby's overalls."

"Fine, Santana. I'll see you ladies soon," Rachel says, picking up her purse and walking toward the door of the office. "Just so you know, Santana," Rachel says, peeking one last look over her shoulder before leaving, "your insistence on using the word 'yo' does nothing but age you. Almost as much as your love for the mid-nineties fashion-fail overalls." Santana rolls her eyes as Rachel leaves.

"She really has become much bitchier in her old age," Santana says to Brittany, absentmindedly bouncing Nico up and down on her lap.

"She just spends more time with you and Quinn now," Brittany says. "Let's go eat lunch."

* * *

Quinn stares down at the screen of her phone again. She has nearly finished packing her entire bedroom, mainly because she's been avoiding making this call.

"Quinn!"

"Hi, Justin." Quinn said, dryly.

"I'm really glad to hear from you."

"Well, we need to deal with some house stuff."

"What's going on?"  
"I'm packing, and there's still a ton of your stuff here."

"You can have it."

"Come on, Justin."

"I'm serious, you can have it."

"I don't want it, J. We actually need to deal with this. Plus, we need to work out the summer schedule for the girls." There's silence on the other end of the line. "Justin?"

"Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. How about we get coffee Wednesday or Thursday?"

"Are you in Los Angeles?"

"I got here yesterday, a little earlier than expected, I know. I was going to surprise the girls, but I didn't want to catch you off guard."

"Thanks, J. That's actually really considerate of you."

"I'm not an ass all of the time." Quinn can't help but laugh at this.

"Okay, how about we get coffee at that little place in Pasadena that sells sandwiches. We'll be less likely to get noticed out there. Thursday?"

"Sounds good. How's eleven for you?"

"Great. I'll see you then."

* * *

Santana is ferociously chopping carrots on the kitchen island and Brittany is putting the finishing touches on her dip as they wait for Frank to arrive.

"Honey," Brittany says, walking carefully around the twins playing with Play-Doh on the floor. "Are you going to at least try to be nice tonight?"

"What do you mean, Britt?" Santana says, her professional smile plastered on her face. "Of course I'm going to be nice."

"Santana."

"What? I'm trying!" She says, continuing to chop. Brittany picks up Nico and tries to get the Play-doh out of his hair. "I just…you know, I know my mother deserves to start dating again. It's been…god, it's been seven years, I just…it's still hard. I thought I was fine with this," she says, letting out a heavy sigh and resting her knife on the cutting board. "I wouldn't have invited him if I thought…I don't know…" she says, trailing off.

"Of course it's hard, Santana." Brittany says, resting her hand on her wife's cheek. "No one is expecting you to suddenly be overjoyed about this, but it's kind of nice that your mom is getting out there again. Still living, you know?"

"I know," Santana says. "I invited him. I know this, in my logical brain…"

"Good," Brittany says. She kisses Santana gently on the lips. "That's all you can do. So just try and be nice tonight, okay?" Santana nods.

"I love you, Brittany." She says, softly.

"I love you too, honey."

* * *

"So, Frank," Santana says, narrowing her eyes. "Tell me what it is you do for a living?" Frank clears his throat nervously. He adjusts his tie, obviously trying to regain his sense of control over the situation. He's in his sixties; she's in her thirties. He can't let her intimidate her.

"I'm an executive at DreamWorks," he says. Santana looks impressed and he's pleased with himself. He starts to play a game of peek-a-boo with Nico. "They're beautiful," he says to no one in particular. "Which one of you is the mother?" Santana and Brittany both look up, clearly taken aback.

"Frank!" Maria says, obviously shocked. Santana is fuming. Not only did her mother start dating again, but she brings home a man who doesn't understand that she is in a lesbian relationship and is going to start devaluing her family in her dining room. She's about to jump up, but Frank interrupts her.

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that! Oh God, I just meant, I was curious I guess, about which one of you gave birth to her. I mean, they look so much like both of you! Of course you're both the mothers." He adds. His face is red, and he's clearly just rambling at this point. "I just…I just was surprised that they really do resemble both of you."

"It's okay," Brittany says, squeezing Santana's hand reassuringly.

"I shouldn't have asked," Frank says. "It's none of my business."

"They do look like both of us," Brittany says, trying to defuse the situation. "I mean, if I didn't know any better, I would have thought that Santana knocked me up. In fact, if I were 15, that's definitely what I would have thought. I had some misconceptions…"Brittany says, looking to Santana to see if humor has taken the edge off. It hasn't. "Damn the State of Ohio and their poor sex ed classes." Brittany grins and takes a bite of her dinner. Santana can't help but giggle at Brittany, and then roll her eyes at Frank who seems to be trying to determine whether she is serious or not. Santana still grasps Brittany's hand impossibly tight; it is clear the wheels in her head are turning impossibly fast now.

"I have two sons," Frank says after a painfully long silence. "Colin is 35 and Paul is 33. Paul is gay."

"Oh, that's fascinating," Santana says, dryly.

"No, I just mean," Frank rubs his forehead, "I didn't mean to be insensitive to your family, Santana. I'm nervous," he says, grasping Maria's hand tightly. "I'm really enjoying spending time with your mother, and she speaks of you and your family and your father so highly, and sometimes I put my foot in my mouth. I was merely trying to compliment how beautiful you and your wife are, and the your children are just as beautiful."

"Why don't we start over," Brittany says.

"I'd really like that," Frank says.

* * *

"So," Quinn says, the next day at lunch with Justin, "Lily comes barging into the room and stops right at Rachel and Hannah and says, 'look, I get that you two get some kind of tickle out of listening to yourselves squeal like sad _sad_ pigs awaiting slaughter on a cold New England morning, but you're going to have to find someplace else to torture innocent souls. Maybe try South Africa, where perhaps they will be excited by the human Vuvuzelas and prop you up as mascots for their National soccer team. Just get it out of _my _house. I gots math homework to do, and its subtraction, and I can't deal with listening to _either_ of your faces anymore.' And then she just walked out of the room. Rachel _literally_ just whispered, 'Santana?' under her breath." Justin can't stop laughing.

"That story is a _lie_, Quinn!"

"I swear to god, J."

"How the hell would she even know what a Vuvuzela is? Or where South Africa is?"

"I'm pretty sure that she spends half of her guitar lessons complaining about things to Santana and then having Santana write out witty yet caustic lines for her to memorize. She's is barely passing any spelling tests and it was like pulling teeth to get her to work on that Geography project, so, as intelligent as our daughter is, I really don't think she's coming up with these things on her own. And don't worry, she was punished."

"Oh, that is priceless. I wish I'd seen it," he says. Their laughter subsides and a hint of awkwardness fills the table. "So, speaking of Rachel giving Hannah voice lessons, how is she?"

"She's doing well," Quinn says quietly.

"The girls talk about her quite a bit." Quinn just nods. "Look, Quinn, I know that I'm the bad guy, and I have no right to ask you this, but we're going to have to learn how to get along for the rest of our lives, because we have three children together, and I think being honest with one another is a step in the right direction." He looks up at Quinn, his eyes earnest, waiting for her to look up from her coffee.

"What did you want to ask me, Justin?" She tries to play nonchalant, keeping a smile on her face.

"Are you seeing Rachel?" Quinn knew this was coming, yet she somehow doesn't have a prepared answer for this. She wants to deny, but she also wants to keep seeing Rachel, so really she'll just be prolonging an uncomfortable confession. That's the old Quinn. She's trying to be the _new_ Quinn. She takes a breath.

"Yes." Justin looks down now, his eyes a little glassy.

"I have one more question," he says, still not able to make eye contact with Quinn. She nods. "Are you gay? Was I just some sort of beard for you for twelve years?"

"God, Justin, of course not. I think…I think that I'm bisexual. I _loved _you, and I loved our life together, it just stopped working. For both of us." He nods in agreement. "_This_, me dating Rachel, me being attracted to women, it has nothing to do with you. What we had was special, before everything went to shit." He nods again.

"I'm happy for you," he says softly.

"Are you?"

"No. I'm sad and hurt and I can't believe, sometimes, that we are really over. But, somewhere, underneath the jealousy and sadness, I know that all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. I was an asshole. If Rachel is being good to you, then I will do what I need to do so that I'm in a place where I can feel genuine happiness for you two."

"That's all I can ask, J."

"Well," he says, obviously still fighting back tears. "This was fun until three minutes ago. I'm gonna head out, I'll see you Friday afternoon when I pick up the girls?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Probably ordering pizza and watching Sportscenter in my hotel."

"Why don't you come to the house and we can have dinner together with the girls? I think they would like that, especially since we're packing up the house they've known all their lives. At least they'll have both their parents there."

"Really?" Justin asks.

"Really. It will be fun." Quinn says, smiling apprehensively at Justin.

* * *

Santana is working in the kitchen while Brittany cooks and listens to Rachel complain. She knows she could go up to her office, but isn't part of the benefit of working from home now that she can spend more time with her family? So she listens to Rachel ramble in exchange for watching her children be _fucking_ adorable in the kitchen.

"I mean, it was supposed to be a 'business' lunch," Rachel says, using air quotes as she stomps around the kitchen. "Is it lunchtime anymore? No. Yet, they're still together."

"They probably just have a lot to talk about, Rachel. Between the kids and dealing with selling the house."

"Still…we had _plans_ tonight, and she broke them to spend time with her ex-husband! I mean…how would she feel if I decided to spend the evening with Sarah? Maybe I'll do that, just give Sarah a call, see if she feels like spending the evening together."

"Rachel," Brittany says sternly, putting down her knife, "stop it. You're being crazy. Like annoying, fifteen-year-old Rachel Berry insane. You can't just use the girl whose heart you broke to get back at Quinn for talking to her ex-husband about selling their house of ten years.

"They haven't lived there for ten years," Rachel says, pouting.

"Seriously, Rachel, I can't deal with high school version of you right now," Brittany says suddenly, her voice harsher than Rachel has ever heard it. Santana's head pops up, and she quickly gives Rachel a look that conveys that Santana has both heard this voice before, and that Rachel is about to get it. "Santana has a ton of work, I have a ton of work, we're dealing with planning a birthday party and getting pregnant again, my mother-in-law, who moved here to help out, is spending most of her time with her new boyfriend, and I have two toddlers. So if it's going to be high school you all night, you really should leave." Rachel looks flabbergasted and Santana looks at Rachel with an

'I told you so' face.

"I thought you secretly liked me in high school." Rachel says.

"No, I couldn't stand you. You were kind of really mean to me." Brittany says.

"No I wasn't." Rachel scoffs, indignant.

"You treated me like I was five." Brittany waits for the obvious retort in which Rachel claims that she _acted _like she was five. It never comes. "The point is, we've both matured, and you need to remember that you're an adult now. You're in a complicated relationship, Rachel. There's no way around that. Quinn has an ex-husband and three children with him. There is no way around that, and no matter how much it pisses you off, Justin will be in your life for as long as your in Quinn's. So you need to either figure out a way to deal with that, or you can leave." The room is suddenly filled with an awkward silence. Even the babies seem to have stilled, waiting for their Aunt Rachel's retort.

"When did you become the wisest one of all of us?" Rachel finally says.

"She always was," Santana says from the table. "The rest of you were all too stupid to realize it though."

"Wait." Rachel says, holding her hand up in the air. "You're trying to get pregnant again!"

"Calm your baby-craving loins, Berry," Santana says. "We're in the very earliest stages of working on it. As in, no sperm has passed through these legs just yet."

"Plenty of sperm has passed through those legs, Santana," Rachel says. Brittany scrunches up her nose. "And _you're _going to carry your next child?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that? I'm so sick of people assuming that because I'm kind of a bitch that I would never want to, you know, bring life into this world. I love Britt, and I love our family, and I want to make it larger. I don't know where everyone gets this idea that I'm this bitchy butch lesbian that could never have a baby."

"But…you're kind of vain, Santana. I'm surprised you'd allow pregnancy to happen to your body."

"Yeah, I'm kind of vain, so I want to pass my awesome genes onto my awesomely hot children. Besides, Rach, people grow up, you know? At sixteen, I never would have imagined that I'd want to bear children, but I also never thought I'd want to be in an openly lesbian marriage, or having dinner with the obnoxious leader of my high school glee club. All but one of those things changed. Guess which one."

"I know, Santana." Rachel says, suddenly pensive as she thinks about her own life. "But…you _are_ kind of the butch one…"

"Are you kidding me with this, Berry? There is no butch one in our relationship. We're both some fierce femme ladies, and, trust me, life got so much easier for me once I stopped trying to assign asinine gender roles to our relationship."

"I'm sorry, Santana." Rachel says, smirking. "It was insensitive for me to assume that just because you sometimes wear camouflage and overalls that you thought of yourself as the more masculine one in the relationship."

"I like to wear suits much more than San does," Brittany points out. "I just never have a reason to. Also, she's really bad at fixing things, and it turns out I'm kind of handy."

"Well, apparently tonight is the night that you two remind me that I'm sometimes self-centered, immature, and a little behind on my gender politics. So, Brittany, now that I'm done being fifteen, what can I help you with?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Brittany says, chancing a quick smirk at Santana before directing Rachel. "The salad, please and thank you," Brittany says, handing Rachel a bowl. "And we love you, Rach. We wouldn't give you a hard time if we didn't. Even Santana."

"I know, Brittany. Thank you."

"Just wanted to set you straight, girl," Brittany says, giggling herself as she continues cooking their dinner.

"Like any of us do anything straight," Santana says, mostly to herself. "I'm just glad you got the human Vuvuzela to shut up."

"I _knew_ you got Lily to say that!" Rachel exclaims.

"What did you think, Lily came up with that on her own? She's _seven_, Rachel."

"It was a pretty good, Santana, I'm surprised you gave it up."

"I'm a generous woman. Now, please go back to helping my wife cook me dinner. I'm trying to work."

"See," Rachel says quietly to Brittany before returning to the salad. "I know I'm not crazy for thinking of her as the butch one." Brittany gives her _that _look again and Rachel stops talking and works on the salad.

* * *

"Hey," Quinn says, crawling into bed with the phone on her ear.

"Hey, yourself," Rachel says. She put the TV on mute.

"Sorry about today. You're not mad, are you?"

"I was. I'm not anymore."

"I just thought it would be nice for the girls to see their parents getting along for once."

"I understand, Quinn. You don't have to explain. Did you guys have a nice time?"

"Yeah, we did. I told Justin about us."

"Really?" Rachel's eyes widened. "About the before us or just about the now us?"

"Just the now us. I think he assumes about the _before_ us, but I think we're trying to not dwell on how messed up our marriage was and focus on our future."

"That's good."

"So, what are you wearing?"

"I'm not playing this game with you, Quinn." Rachel says, smiling into the phone.

"Why not?"

"Because it's late, and I'd rather talk to you, and save this for our date on Saturday night."

"Lame."

"I know. So, are you still packing?"

"No, but I packed all day, I'm actually really proud of myself."

"I bet you look really hot when you're packing," Rachel says, giggling.

"Okay, I still don't get this joke, Rachel."

"It's okay. I'm going to go to bed."

"You're still not going to tell me?"

"No, I'm going to let you find this one out on your own."

"Mean."

"I know. Goodnight, Quinn."

"Night, Rach. I love you."

"I love you too." Quinn hangs up the phone. Her computer is downstairs, and she's not curious enough to go find it. She scrolls through her contacts.

* * *

"I'm gonna kill this bitch," Santana says, seeing Quinn's name pop up on her phone. Brittany rolls over so she's on her stomach, her head facing Santana.

"Who is it?"

"Quinn."

"Just don't answer," Brittany says, yawning. "Or maybe you should answer. It could be an emergency." Santana groans and shifts herself up in their bed to get the phone. She gently runs her free hand down Brittany's exposed spine.

"What the fuck do you want, Q?"

"Oh, hello, Santana! Did I interrupt your frequent and vigorous love making with your wife again?"

"Gross, Q. And no, thankfully, you called post sexy times, and in my grumpy I want to go the fuck to sleep because I just had sex with my wife times."

"That's just lovely, Santana."

"Seriously, Q, what's up? I don't have all night."

"I need to ask you a question."

"Okay."

"What is packing?" Quinn holds her breath, nervous for Santana's reply.

"Seriously, Q? What the fuck kind of question is that? Are you having some sort of weird, existential, academic, I'm a depressed writer moment and I have to move my life, because I really can't deal with it."

"No! Rachel keeps making a joke every time I talk about packing about seeing me pack and how hot packing is." Santana sits upright in bed, her eyes widening. "Santana?" Quinn asks, nervous again because of the silence.

"Wanky, Q. Seriously, wanky. Who knew that Berry's a kinky one," she says. Brittany rolls her eyes and puts her pillow over her head, knowing from that response that it's going to be a long conversation. "Don't worry, Q. Aunty Tana will fill you in on everything you need to know. God, I _love_ having a baby dyke under my wing."

"Oh god, Santana, just get on with it." Quinn says.

"Well, you see, when a lady and another lady love each other very much, and have been together for a long time…" Brittany pulls the pillow tighter around her ears. If 'Aunty Tana' is out, there was no telling when this conversation would end.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: **Sorry about the long delay, again! I'm terrible, I know. I didn't mean to freak you all out about the story ending, there are still quite a few chapters left, but they're mainly tying up loose ends. This chapter is filler, purely setting up for what comes next, so I'm sorry if it's kind of boring, and as always, I love all of your reviews!

As always, if you've have questions in between chapters or about updates, the best way to reach me is at my tumblr:

Seahorsesantana

And thank you all for reviewing!

* * *

"What are you two doing up here?" Brittany asks, walking into their bedroom with Olivia on her hip and a cup of tea in her hand.

"Reading," Santana says, placing a small kiss on the top of Nico's head. "He woke up from his nap early, and you were out with Liv, and I needed to get changed before my meeting with Rachel."

"You know, Rachel probably won't care if you're not in a business suit before you meet with her."

"I know, but it makes me feel better about working from home," Santana says. "Speaking of," Santana says, throwing the book on her end table, "Rachel should be here soon. Do you mind opening the door for her while I pretend that I'm super busy in my office?"

"Of course, not, honey, but do you really think that's necessary?"

"It makes me feel better," Santana says, leaning down and kissing Brittany on the lips. She hands Nico to her. "Thank you?" Santana asks.

"Of course," Brittany says, rolling her eyes at her wife.

* * *

"Well, Ms. Berry, it isn't the norm for my clients to ask for meetings with me, especially when I have no legal documents to look at, so, if you don't mind me asking, what can I help you with today?" Santana asks, placing a pile of contracts she'd already gone over back in their file.

"I actually came here on false pretenses, Santana," Rachel holds up her hand before Santana could protest her use in her first name. "I'm not here to discuss any legal issues. I'm here about babies. Or, the future baby, rather."

"Oh my god," Santana says, leaning back in her seat with a sigh. "You and Quinn are not ready to have babies yet! What the fuck is it with the lesbian u-haul! You know my friend Sasha from college is moving in with a girl she's known for a month? A month! Getting out of her lease and everything. Britt and I were together for 5 years, 4 officially before we moved in together. We waited over ten years to have children. You and Q are _not _ready, Rachel. I mean, are you even officially dating yet?"

"Santana, while I appreciate your concern that Quinn and I have lesbian U-haul syndrome, we are, in fact taking it slow. Quinn's moving and I will be staying in my own apartment, and there has been _no_ talk of potential future procreation."

"Thank god."

"Besides, despite the fact that we are officially together, we haven't had sex yet."

"Now, that's just a lie, Berry. You two had sex in Big Bear and you had sex in Finn and Kurt's house. And who knows how many times in between."

"We're waiting now that we're a couple. Quinn wants to date me and take it slow."

"That's weird."

"It's romantic. Now, Santana, despite your valiant attempt at distraction, I'm here to talk about you and_ your_ future babies."

"We're not naming anyone Judy, Barbra, or Patti."

"I'm serious, Santana."

"Fine, whatever. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, Quinn may have brought it to my attention that you and Brittany were having some discussions about the donor and whether the child should reflect both of you racially or biologically." Santana narrows her eyes at Rachel. "Now, I don't know for sure that you've ever met my dads,' Rachel begins, "but Hiram is Jewish and Leroy is African-American. I think of myself as half-black." Santana began to laugh out loud at this. Not her normal, polite laugh, but full, boisterous laughter, her head tipped back and her hands clenched together. "Santana!" Rachel hisses. "I _know_ I'm not African-American, however, I have a parent and grandparents who are, and I never felt less loved or a part of their family simply because I did not look like them racially."

"Hold on, Berry. I'm sorry for laughing. If we're going to talk about this, seriously, Britt needs to be here, okay?" Rachel nods.

"That makes sense." Santana is fiddling with her phone. She immediately puts it on speaker.

"Honey, why do you call me when you could just walk outside to find me?"

"I just need you to come up here so that we can talk to Rachel about being raised by an interracial same-sex couple." Santana said, trying to fight back laughter.

"Oh yeah!" Brittany says. "I'll be right up. I always forget that Rachel is half-black." Rachel shrugs smugly to Santana.

"She's joking. I'm sure she's joking." Santana glares Rachel.

* * *

"I guess, the point of this whole conversation, is that I felt no less a part of my family because I didn't _look_ like half of it. I just thought you'd like to know that before you made the decision about whether to use the same donor that you used for Nico and Olivia or go with a white donor this time."

"Thanks, Rachel," Brittany says. "It means a lot that you came over here just to talk about this with us."

"Well it was kind of Quinn's idea, but I thought it couldn't hurt."

"I'm sorry, I have to take this phone call," Santana says, excusing herself from the room and handing Nico to Rachel.

The truth is, her phone isn't buzzing. It's just the more they talk about the logistics of their new baby, the more stressed out she gets. Even though most of her clients came with her when she left the firm, she definitely has less work than she did a month ago. Brittany does well as a dancer, but she doesn't make the income that Santana does. The prospect of three children, and a lot of time when she can't work to her full potential worries her. Not to mention her fears about birth.

Suddenly, her phone actually does start ringing. She breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she won't have to lie when she goes back into the lion's den.

"Hey, Baby-D, what's up?" Santana asks.

"Nothing," Quinn says, sighing into the phone. "Why are you calling me Baby-D?"

"You're my new baby-dyke. And you want something." Santana says. "If you need help moving, the answer is no, I'm too busy. However, if you need help learning the mechanics of tribadism, fisting, or cunnilingus, I have all the free time in the world. "

"Gross, Santana. Just gross. Plus, you don't even know the moving date, how do you know that you'll be busy?" Quinn says.

"I know that whenever it is, I'm going to be too busy."

"You're a bitch, Santana. A disgusting bitch."

"You've been telling me this for years. Now, are you going to tell me something I haven't already heard?"

"I was just wondering what you and Brittany were doing for dinner tonight?"

"Why, are you inviting us over? Or are you inviting yourself over?"

"The latter," Santana rolls her eyes. "Look, we're moving tomorrow and there's nothing out for the girls to eat and I think they're getting depressed about the move, and I just thought it would be nice for them to get out of the house. You know how much they love you and their Aunt B."

"Fine. Whatever. Your girlfriend is here anyway. We're eating at 6, see you then?"

"Thanks, Santana." Santana walks back into her office.

"Who was that?" Brittany asks.

"Rachel's annoying girlfriend," Santana says, glaring at Rachel who just grins. "I kind of told her that she could bring her and the girls over for dinner. They're moving tomorrow, you know, so they don't have any food in the house, and I guess the girls are kind of down."

"I guess you better start cooking then, huh, sweetheart?" Brittany jokes.

* * *

"Jesus, Santana, are we having a dinner party, or what?" Maria asks, entering the kitchen, a Bloomingdale's bag on her arm.

"Oh hi, mom, nice of you to join us! I see you did some shopping!" Santana gives her a saccharine sweet smile. "How was your yoga class? Or was today the day you take that writing seminar at UCLA Extension? How's living the life of leisure in Los Angeles treating you?" Santana shoots to her mother while she chops vegetables.

"Why it's just lovely. I'm glad you understand why on a day in which my daughter has to meet with one client, a classmate from high school, and my daughter-in-law is off from work for three weeks, I would take time to do things for myself instead of baby-sit my grandchildren." Maria snarks back. They sit in a silent Lopez stalemate. Finally Santana sighs.

"Quinn and the girls and Rachel are coming over for dinner."

"Good, so they'll be plenty of food for Frank, too."

"Salsa Man is coming over for dinner?"

"Yes, Santana, and I don't want to hear anymore about it."

"Fine, whatever," Santana says.

* * *

Their house is full again. Even though it's a little stressful, and results in a lot of cleaning, both Brittany and Santana prefer a full house to an empty one. Harper and Hannah are playing outside with Lola, Frank is playing with Olivia and Nico, and Rachel and Quinn are catching up with Maria. Santana and Brittany are cooking with Lily as their sous-chef.

"Should we sneak some real cheese into these gross vegan enchiladas, Bean?" Santana asks Lily, who is standing on a stool next to her while they cook dinner. Brittany playfully glares at Santana.

"Mom would probably get really mad," Lily grins. "Hannah is a vegan now too. She says that dairy isn't good for her voice," Lily mocks. "_So_ annoying." Lily carefully crumbles the cashew cheese onto the enchiladas.

"When I was a kid, I used to put weird things in my brothers' food when they were annoying me," Santana says, thoughtful, almost a little nostalgic.

"Santana," Brittany hisses.

"Not that I'm recommending that you do that!" She quickly amends, but Lily's smirk is already in place. "I was just reminiscing on my childhood."

"What does reminiscing mean?"

"It means remembering good things, Lily."

"Oh. That's nice," Lily says. "I wish I had brothers, instead of stupid sisters."

"Brothers can be just as annoying, Lily."

"Do you think you can do my hair like yours instead of in these pigtails? Then we can play guitar?"

"Once we put these in the oven, your wish is my command," Santana grins.

Quinn walks over to Brittany, after Santana and Lily disappear to the living room. She's holding Nico, who has been babbling incoherently to her.

"Should I be concerned by how much my daughter idolizes your wife?" Quinn asks. Brittany gives her a sympathetic smile and places a small kiss on her son's head.

"Yes," Maria yells from the kitchen table. Frank is sitting next to her, playing a game with Olivia that involves stacking blocks up on the table and knocking them down again, much to Olivia's delight. "Santana was an exceptionally difficult teenager. I think the only phrases she knew were 'No', 'I don't care', and 'leave me alone'. She also was a difficult child, and middle-school wasn't the best."

"Wow, Maria, thanks for the encouragement," Quinn laughs.

"Just being honest," Maria says. She turns back to Rachel. "Now, Rachel, tell me more about this ghetto doctor show you're going to be in."

"Well, despite your daughter's misgivings, I think it's a perfect opportunity to spread my wings a little and show my versatility as an actor…"

"She really still loves to talk about herself, doesn't she?" Brittany asks Quinn. Quinn nods.

"It's kind of endearing though, right?" Quinn asks, a little nervously.

"To each her own, Q," Brittany says, laughing.

* * *

"So, I believe you two owe us some baby-sitting," Santana says, gesturing to Rachel and Quinn once they've sat down for dinner. Rachel looks down in her napkin and blushes. She's still getting used to the feeling of being addressed as a unit with Quinn.

"What do you mean, Aunt S?" Lily asks, looking up at Santana with a mouthful of food.

"Yes, whatsoever do you mean, Aunt S?" Quinn asks, smirking. "And, sweetheart, no talking with your mouthful, you'll choke."

"That's a lot of BS, don't you think?" Lily asks, looking at Santana. Santana and Quinn almost choke on their food.

"Santana," Quinn growls at her friend. Santana simply shrugs. "Honey, don't say BS, okay?" Lily shrugs back at her mother and continues to eat.

"What I meant, mini-me," Santana begins, grinning at Quinn, "is that it's not fair that your Aunt B and I get to spend so much time with you and your sisters, but your mom and Rachel don't get to spend time with Nico and Olivia too. So we trade off so we all get the same amount of time."

"That makes sense. So, mom, are you and Rachel going to sing to each other like Aunt B and S did when they were girlfriends? Cause Aunt S could teach me something to play on the guitar. Then later we could do some reminiscing about it." It's Quinn and Rachel's turn to stare at Lily wide-eyed. Santana laughs out loud.

"We can talk about that later, sweetheart," Quinn says, once she's recovered her senses. "How about you focus on eating your dinner instead of asking questions, okay?" Lily shrugs again, but appears to focus on her dinner.

"Besides," Santana says, "Aunt B and I weren't girlfriends when we sang Landslide. We were just friends who loved each other a lot." Brittany winks at Santana and Maria rolls her eyes.

"What's going on?" Frank whispers to Maria.

"I'll have to explain later. It's long. And complicated."

"So, Q, Berry, as I was saying, I know you're not free this weekend, but B and I were thinking about getting out of town sometime next week, do you think you could watch the twins? Just for a night."

"I would do it," Maria explains, "but I'm spending this coming week in New York with Christian's family."

"Yeah," Quinn says, "I think things should be mostly settled down from the move by next week. What do you say, Ray?"

"I would love to take care of your little angels," Rachel says, beaming at Santana. As if on cue, Nico drops a handful of enchilada onto Rachel's lap and claps his hands and giggles.

"Comida para Ray!" He says to her, smiling. Rachel can't help but smile back.

"Si. Rachel necesitaba comida," Rachel says.

"Your Spanish is terrible, Rachel," Santana says.

"Your son takes after you, Santana."

"Why are there little pieces of paper in my enchilada?" Hannah asks. Lily smirks and Santana blushes.

"So, Frank how are things going at work?" She asks wide-eyed, effectively moving the conversation on. Brittany flicks her shoulder and Santana just grins.

* * *

Everyone leaves by nine, and Santana can't remember the last time she was so tired. It had been a long day. She brushes the relatively long hair out of Olivia's eyes and gives her a kiss before meeting Brittany in the doorway.

"They're cute, don't you think?" Brittany asks, as they shut the door to Olivia's room and walk toward their bedroom.

"Our babies?" Santana asks. "Obviously."

"No, Rachel and Quinn."

"I guess," Santana says. "In that creepy, asexual, you kind of get on my nerves sort of a way." Brittany rolls her eyes.

"They kind of remind me of us when we were kids."

"Gross, Britt. Please take that back."

"No," Brittany says, grinning. She grabs at the hem of Santana's shirt as they enter the room, pulling her closely to her. "It's _cute._ In that nervous, excited to be around each other kind of a way."

"We're still like that." Santana says, smiling into Brittany.

"No. I domesticated you."

"Can't be domesticated." Brittany raises her eyebrows at her and pointedly looks over Santana's shoulder at their bedroom.

"I seem to remember a bedroom that always had an empty glass of wine and a glass of water by your bedside, not an empty sippy cup and a glass of water, San."

"That's one example. And Nico woke up early from his nap today and I had to change for my meeting with Berry so I brought him in here with me."

"_The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ is on the table. Not _The Best Lesbian Erotica: 2018._"

"I'm sorry, Britt, but as much as I enjoy that book, it doesn't seem like appropriate reading material for our son."

"The only toys left out are building blocks and rattles."

"Okay, it's enough."

"Although, I must say, you are just as messy as you were before we had children. Just with different kinds of toys."

"You know what, Britt," Santana says, playfully, "you say this now, but wait until you see how _undomesticated_ I am when we get out of town next week."

"Oh yeah?" Brittany asks, grinning and playfully pecking Santana on the lips.

"Yeah. It's going to blow your mind. Circa 2021 style."

"That was a _really_ good sex year for us." Santana laughs.

"I love that you measure years in how good the sex was."

"I like to keep track of important things," Brittany says, kissing Santana again on the lips. "Let's get ready for bed, okay?"

* * *

"Girls, I want to talk to you about something before we go to bed, okay? Wash up and brush your teeth and then come into my room, okay?"

Quinn gets changed into her robe quickly and waits for the girls to finish getting ready and join her. She sits on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do with her hands, not even sure what to do with herself, as she waits to have this conversation with her daughters. Hannah pushes her door open, sitting cross-legged on the ground across from the bed.

"Are we in trouble, mom?" Hannah asks. Before Quinn can answer, Lily is pushing the door open.

"Are you getting divorced again?" Lily asks, quietly, crawling onto Quinn's bed and laying down on her stomach. Harper pushes the door open again and crawls onto Hannah's lap, resting her head in her sister's shoulder as she yawns.

"No and no. I wanted to talk to you about Rachel." The three girls wait for their mother to continue. "You guys like spending time with Rachel, don't you?" they nod.

"Definitely." Hannah says.

"I like it as long as the two of them aren't singing," Lily says, glaring pointedly at her older sister.

"Well, Rachel is going to be spending a little more time around here. Well, not around here, around our new house."

"We figured she wasn't going to stop coming over just because we moved." Hannah says, rolling her eyes.

"No," Quinn nervously laughs. She shuts her eyes for a fraction of a second. She's about to come out to her children. They obviously won't reject her, they're _children_. But, what if they don't understand? What if she doesn't know how to explain this to them? It's her job to make sure that they're happy and healthy and what if they took all of their Grandparents words to heart or resent her for breaking up their family.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Harper sweetly asks from her sister's lap.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just meant, Rachel is going to be spending more time around here because she's mommy's girlfriend. Like you said today, Lily. Like Aunt B and S were before they got married."

"Wait, so Rachel wasn't already your girlfriend?" Hannah asks.

"Yeah, I thought she was your girlfriend, too." Lily says, turning her head to look at her mother. "When she picked us up from school the other day I told Tommy that she was my mom's girlfriend and he said it must _suck _to have two moms _and_ a dad because there's so many grownups bugging me to clean my room. Which _is_ pretty clean since we packed everything. Then I told him that it was awesome because I don't have _two _moms, I have one Mom, one Dad, and a Rachel, and having a Rachel is pretty fun, _unless_ she and Hannah are singing."

"Yeah," Hannah says, rolling her eyes at the last part of Lily's comment. "I thought you were already girlfriends because you guys make stupid faces at each other like Aunt B and Aunt S after they _do it_ all the time. Susie, from school, she has _four_ dads," Hannah says, her eyes widening. "She says it's the best because she gets two of everything."

"Four dads?" Quinn asks, her face confused.

"Yeah," Hannah says, looking at her mother like she's an idiot. "There's Daddy and Papa and Mark and Jay, her stepdads. You know them, mom! You took me to a sleepover at her house! _Remember_, you and her step-dad Mark talked _forever _about boring grown-up stuff." A look of realization crosses Quinn's face.

* * *

_Lily and Susie run upstairs before either of the adults really get a chance to speak to each other. Quinn laughs._

_"Quinn Fabray," she says, extending her hand._

_"Mark Wilson," he replies. "Would you like to come in for some coffee?"_

_"Maybe a cup," Quinn says as they cross the foyer, "but I have a meeting with my real estate agent in twenty minutes so I can't stay for long."_

_"No problem," Mark says. "I just brewed a pot." He gestures for her to sit down in the living room and she takes a look around the room, and at the parts of the house she can see from where she's seated._

_"You have a beautiful home," she says when he returns with the coffee."_

_"Thanks so much," __he says, taking a seat and placing his cup on the table in front of him. "So you said you have a meeting with your real estate agent. Are you moving?"_

_"Unfortunately, yes."_

_"Where from?"_

_"Well, right now we live in Beverly Hills, but that house was my ex-husband's idea and it's not really my style, plus it's always been way too big for us."_

_"Where are you looking?"_

_"Everywhere really.__ My friends from childhood have been living in Silverlake for years, but I think it might be too bohemian for me," Quinn says as Mark shows her into the living room for coffee after the girls run upstairs. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm looking for a place with a little more artistic flair to it since living in Beverly Hills for the last eight years, but Silverlake seems a little extreme."_

_ "It is a little 'mid-twenties hipster' for my taste." Mark says. _

_ "Right? I mean, it makes sense for them. Brittany is a dancer with a little bit of a bohemian side and Santana's a lawyer who likes to pretend she's still 21." Mark grins, pouring coffee into Quinn's cup._

_ "It's definitely perfect for single people," he says._

_ "Oh, they're not single."_

_ "I mean unmarried adult roommates, without children who can deal with the bar crowd and the like."_

_ "No, they've been married for, god, five, maybe six years now? It's hard to keep track. They have twins, they're just about to turn two."_

_ "Oh. _Oh," _Mark says._

_ "They live in hills, above the reservoir. It's nice up there, and there's some nice restaurants on Silver Lake, and they're near the dog park."_

_ "I see."_

_ "Plus, Rachel lives in Franklin Village. I just feel like I should move further east since most of my life is further east these days."_

_ "Who is Rachel?"_

_ "Rachel's our aunt!" Hannah says, excitedly running into the room with Susie by her side. "Well, not really our aunt the way _Frannie_ is our aunt. She's like mommy's friend aunt. She comes over _all _the time, she's totally awesome."_

_ "I see," Mark says, smiling. "Have you thought about Los Feliz at all?"_

_ "No, well, not until today. You have a lovely home."_

_ "Thank you. Taylor and I have been here for four years and we love it. It's a little quieter than Silverlake, but it still has that youthful, artsy feeling to it. Plus it's right by Griffith Park, the school system is good, should the kids ever need to go to public school. We have our own carpool, and it pretty much sits right between Silverlake and Franklin Village."_

_ "I'll have to think about it," Quinn says, finishing her coffee. "I'm sorry, but I have to make that meeting with my real estate agent."_

_ "Of course," Mark says, taking her mug. "You should consider it. There are lots of different kinds of families in this neighborhood, Quinn, Taylor and I really love it. We should have you and Rachel over for dinner sometime, and we can talk about it."_

_ "I would like that," Quinn says._

* * *

"So, do you girls have any questions?" Quinn asks, nervously. The girls all stare at her blankly.

"Do you want me to learn a song on the guitar so you guys can sing it?" Lily asks.

"That's okay, sweetheart," Quinn says, ruffling Lily's hair. "I'm going to leave the music to you, Santana, Hannah and Rachel."

"Can we go to bed?" Harper asks. "I'm tired." Quinn nods.

"I'm not tired," Lily says yawning.

"I'm excited for the new house tomorrow!" Hannah says. "Do we still all get our own rooms?"

"Of course," Quinn says. "It's going to be a busy day tomorrow, though, so let's get you ladies to bed!"

* * *

"I told them." Quinn says, simply, laying in bed after tucking all three girls in.

"How'd they take it?"

"Apparently they already knew and couldn't understand why I was making a big deal about it. It was kind of…anticlimactic."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's what I wanted, I think. I'm tired now though, and I haven't even begun with the stress of moving tomorrow. What do you say we stay in and just cook dinner on Saturday? You know, really break in the new house for the first time?"

"I'd like that," Rachel says.

"I'd also like if you could talk to them about it too, just to make sure everything is okay."

"Of course," Rachel says.

* * *

"Do you miss it, Britt?" Santana asks, rolling over in bed. She's suddenly very aware that they've been sleeping on the same side of the bed since they were teenagers, that they've engaged in the same sleep routine since they were teenagers, that the weird nervous energy she felt between Rachel and Quinn tonight no longer exists in their relationship.

"Miss what, honey?" Brittany asks yawning. She snuggles closer into Santana's side.

"Miss how exciting it was when we first started dating?"

"Hell no," Brittany says. "We get all of the good kind of excitement without any of the bad."

"What's the bad?"

"Like, is Santana going to stay over tonight, or is she going to hate being a lesbian again? Will Santana hold my hand? Will she dance with me in public? Now I just get the how are we going to have sex tonight kind of excitement."

"Or the _are_ we going to have sex tonight or are we too tired from dealing with our two children and jobs kind of excitement."

"I like that too, San," Brittany says. "I'm building my life with you. It's a different kind of exciting, but I like it more."

"Good," Santana says, kissing the top of Brittany's head.

* * *

Quinn doesn't even know what happened to her week. They had movers help them the day of the move, but after that it was a blur of figuring our their new Los Feliz carpool (Lily was_ super_ excited to be in a carpool with her new best friend Susie, but it made the morning all the more stressful), unpacking, and trying to get the girls back on a semblance of a normal schedule. It was just such a relief when Friday afternoon rolled around and Rachel came back from her trip to New York and Justin picked up the girls.

"I'm too tired to cook dinner," Quinn says, laying down on the couch after Justin and the girls leave. "This has been the craziest week."

"Tell me about it," Rachel says.

"Oh, yeah! How was New York?"

"Business, mostly," Rachel says. "I saw a show with a friend from college, but other than that it was pretty uneventful," she sits down next to Quinn, placing her wine on the coffee table. "I'm thinking about selling my apartment."

"Really?" Quinn asks, sitting up to look Rachel in the eyes."

"Yeah, I mean, I spend almost all of my time here now. It seems like an enormous waste of money every time I write that mortgage check."

"What about when you have to work in New York?"

"I'll stay in a hotel like everyone else. Do you think it's a bad idea or something?" Rachel asks, the nerves apparent in her voice.

"No! Of course not, Rach. You worry too much. It's just a Rachel Berry without a New York apartment doesn't seem right to me."

"I know what you mean."

"Besides, I always kind of wanted to see it one day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I feel like it's a window into the life you built before you came out here. You have a whole ten years of adulthood I know nothing about."

"There's not much to know," Rachel says, slightly sadly.

"Well I want to know everything." Quinn leans over and kisses Rachel gently on the lips. Rachel smiles into the kiss, allowing Quinn to gently push her toward the couch, parting her lips in an effort to deepen the kiss. She runs her hands up Quinn's back, over her sweater, feeling the small bump of the clasp of her bra. She snaps her fingers over it, feeling the back slacken and fall down Quinn's shoulder blades. Quinn snaps up from the kiss.

"Did you just?" Rachel nods, blushing. "But how?" Rachel shrugs, leaning forward in an attempt to pull Quinn in for another kiss, but Quinn leans back. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"College," Rachel says, bashfully.

"You have to show Santana. She'll be so jealous."

"Can we not talk about Santana right now, Quinn?" Rachel asks, her voice husky.

"Sorry," Quinn says, still sitting up, away from Rachel. She pulls her bra off through her shirt.

"So sexy," Rachel says.

"Because of you," Quinn replies, leaning back down. With the barrier of the bra gone, Rachel can feel the softness of Quinn's breasts against her own. She can't hold back the small moan from the sensation of Quinn's nipples pressing into her. Quinn pulls away from her again, smiling as Rachel lets out a grunt at the loss of contact.

"I want to show you my new bedroom," Quinn says, winking.

It's awkward, somehow, as they walk upstairs. They aren't touching and Rachel follows behind Quinn.

"It's nice," Rachel says, softly, taking in Quinn's new bedroom. The walls are yellow and the comforter on her King size bed is white with yellow flowers.

"Thank you," Quinn says, just as softly, leaning against the turquoise dresser. "Come here," she says, taking out her earrings. Rachel approaches her slowly, standing up on her toes when their bodies press together. Rachel runs her hand under Quinn's top, her hand stopping just below the soft skin of Quinn's breast. She can feel how quickly Quinn's heart is beating. Quinn presses their hips together, rolling her body up into Rachel's. The move elicits a moan from both of them. They pull apart again and Rachel looks up at Quinn, her eyes wide and questioning. Quinn simply nods and lifts her shirt over her head. She unbuttons her pants, and slowly and carefully slides out of them. She reaches behind Rachel, unzipping the back of her dress. She lowers the straps of Rachel's dress, gently kissing her shoulders as the straps drop past Rachel's elbows, then of her hands. It drops to the ground, and Rachel steps out of it, arching into Quinn as she places kisses across Rachel's collarbone, then own her sternum.

Rachel tastes salty and sweet and a little like cocoa butter. Quinn's kisses linger, and her lips part, savoring Rachel's taste, Rachel's feel. She lets her hand slip between Rachel's collarbone and unfasten her bra. She runs her hands across Rachel's stomach as she lowers hers arms to let the bra fall to the ground, now in a pile with her dress. Their bodies are pressed together again, nipples hard and cold and grazing against one another. Rachel hooks her fingers under her panties and slides them down, stepping out of them and leading Quinn to the bed.

They lay side by side, facing each other. Rachel's nose grazes Quinn, then she tilts her head to resume the kiss. Their legs interlace and Quinn moans as Rachel rolls them so that she is on top of Quinn, supporting herself on her arms. She tucks her hair behind her ears, kissing in circles around Quinn's nipple, then letting her tongue slip out to gently nip at it.

It's different now. So different than it was before, when the only times they were together like this were rushed and hidden and drunk.

Quinn's squirming beneath her does not reek of desperation and hunger, but of love and passion. It is slow. She smells like her perfume and sweat and a little red wine. Her hazel eyes look warm and hooded and expectant instead of full of fear.

It feels so good to be close to her body like this again though. Her body hasn't changed. The way her breath stops as Rachel trails a single finger past Quinn's breasts and over her belly button, painting small circles around her hip bones. Quinn's hips still buck up , urging Rachel for more, groaning into her mouth. Rachel can't tell if she's smelling herself or Quinn, but she knows the rhythmic grinding of her hips into Quinn's smooth thigh is leaving a trail of sticky wetness that sends jolts of pleasure up and down Rachel's spine. She subconsciously grinds herself into Quinn a little harder this time—a little further up and let's out a gasp. She had no idea how turned on she was.

She doesn't know who she is smelling—herself or Quinn.

"Please," Quinn barely says.

That's all it takes for Rachel to run her fingers past soft curls, and into Quinn, feeling a little like she was going to tumble over the edge herself from the sound Quinn makes as she enters her, as she feels her fingers squeezed by Quinn's tight muscles.

She holds it together though, and they rock back and forth, slowly and rhythmically, their eyes fixed on one another.

The sound Quinn makes when she comes is new—it's deep and strong and choked, like she didn't expect it and didn't know where it was coming from. It sends Rachel over the edge as well, driving her hips hard into Quinn and taking the sound into her mouth.

They still rock together, slowly, with sleepy smiles on their faces, until Rachel lowers her body into Quinn's. She starts to nod off, absentmindedly making circles with her fingertips around Quinn's breast.

"Awesome," Rachel says. Quinn nods.

"I'm hungry now though and we never decided what we were going to order." Rachel laughs. "What?" Quinn says. "I'm hungry now."

"I love you," Rachel says, tilting her head up to kiss the bottom of Quinn's chin.

"I love you too. I think we should do a lot more of that this weekend. First, though, I'm going to call Green Leaves and order us some dinner," Quinn says, kissing Rachel and pulling out her cell phone.

"I'd like to order Spring Rolls, Spicy Green Beans, Pineapple Fried Rice, Pad Thai, and Shitake Curry. And the Pineapple Curry." After giving her address, she realizes that Rachel is staring at her with wide-eyes.

"Are you having a Vegan Pan-Asian party, Quinn?"

"I just don't plan on leaving this bed for the next 48 hours, so I thought I should order us plenty of food."

"I love you," Rachel says. Quinn smiles and they kiss, slowly and lazily until their food arrives.

* * *

Santana is excited to get out of town. She reaches over the center of the car to take Brittany's hand in her own. Brittany gives her a reassuring smile. She's had so much anxiety this week about their future, about her job, about money, about pregnancy, about this birthday party Brittany is planning for the twins, and she hasn't really had an opportunity to talk to her wife about it.

"Are you excited, San?" Brittany asks, picking up on her anxiety.

"So excited. You have no idea." They pull up in front of Quinn's new house. "Although, I'm gonna miss these two little buggers," Santana says, reaching into the car to pull Nico out of his carseat while Brittany does the same thing with Olivia on the other side.

"It will be good for us to get away though," Brittany says, making eye contact with Santana across the car and giving her a reassuring smile.

* * *

"These new digs are sweet," Santana says, pushing the stroller into Quinn's new house.

"You know, you really should consider abandoning the slang, Santana," Rachel says, taking a diaper bag off of Brittany's shoulder. "As someone who works in the entertainment industry as a public figure, it is part of my job to make sure that I'm connecting with the youth, and, as such, I must keep apprised of current slang. And _digs_ and _sweet_ are not how kids are talking today."

"As someone who works as a professional behind the scenes in the entertainment industry, it is part of my job to make sure that I'm not written off as some twenty-something who got to my position because of my connections, so I try to avoid talking like a teenager."

"Don't worry, Santana," Rachel says, "I'm sure no one would confuse you with a twenty-something."

"When did you become such an ass, Berry?" Santana asks, squinting at Rachel.

"Assberry," Brittany laughs, snorting.

"Not helping, Britt," Santana says.

"I think it started around the time I started seeing you on a regular basis." Rachel retorts.

"Hello, ladies," Quinn says, walking into the room. "Rachel, why don't we take a seat on the couch?"

"Where are the devils?" Santana asks.

"New carpool rotation now that we're living in Los Feliz. They'll be home in half-an-hour."

"Why are you asking me to take a seat?" Rachel asks Quinn.

"You've never taken care of the twins overnight. Santana has a book that she insists on reading aloud about proper care of her children. I suggest you make yourself comfortable." Rachel furrows her eyebrows, but nonetheless takes a seat next to Quinn, their bodies touching but not overly affectionate.

"Quinn is being dramatic. I just want to go over some emergency information before we leave them with you."

"You really should get comfortable, Rachel. I'm going to go into the kitchen and get something to drink. Is it cool if I use your computer, Quinn?" Quinn nods and Brittany disappears.

* * *

"Santana, honey, I think it's enough," Brittany says, reentering the room twenty minutes later.

"I'm finished, Britt!" Santana defends. Rachel's mouth is hanging open and Quinn is filing her nails.

"I'll leave the info with you in case you forget anything," Santana says, handing her packet to Rachel.

"I don't think I've ever heard you speak for so long, Santana."

"Well, now you know how the rest of us feel. Oh, and before I forget, give this to Lily for me, will you?" Santana hands an envelope to Quinn. "Don't read it though." Quinn raises her eyebrows at Santana.

"What, are you and my daughter in some secret club?"

"Whatever, just give it to her. You ready to go, Britt?" Brittany nods.

"Have a great time," Quinn says, leading Brittany and Santana toward the door. They each place one last kiss on Nico and Olivia's heads.

"Thanks guys!" Brittany says, hugging Quinn then Rachel.

"Don't we get a hug, too?" Quinn asks Santana. Santana scowls at her, but Brittany bumps her shoulder. She hugs Quinn quickly.

"I don't think I can lean down far enough to hug her," Santana says, looking at Rachel, but leaning down anyway. Rachel wraps her arms around Santana's back. "Did you just? Oh my god, you did!" Santana exclaims, reaching around her back. "Baby," Santana says, looking at Brittany, "Rachel just unhooked my bra!"

"Impressive," Brittany smiles, nodding and running her tongue over her incisor. Santana is looking at Rachel with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

"Where did you learn to do that, Berry?" Santana asks. "I know that this Baby-D here didn't teach you."

"I found my college years very informative," Rachel says, grinning.

"Impressive," Santana says, nodding at Rachel. "If you ever do it to me again, I _will_ make you regret the day you were born, but I'm definitely impressed, Berry."

"I thought you'd be."

* * *

"I'm glad we're doing this, honey," Brittany says as they pull out of Quinn's driveway.

"I know. We needed a vacation. Especially since I ruined our last one."

"You didn't ruin the last one. You were just being safe." Brittany takes Santana's free hand in her own and kisses the back of her hand.

"This is going to be fun, B."

"I know, sweetheart. It always is." Brittany leans over to the driver's side and kisses Santana's cheek. "We're going to have the best weekend ever." Santana grins.

"You know it, B."


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** Well, I'm very sorry for another long wait. As those of you know who follow my Tumblr, my computer crashed, and I had to start anew once I got a new one. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I really love all of your reviews!

* * *

The sun is already setting by the time they get on the road, and Brittany can hear her stomach start growling.

"Let's get dinner at that seafood place we went to right after we found out that the twins were…well…twins," Brittany says, gently touching Santana's jaw with her thumb. Santana nods. She knows that Brittany is looking at her; Brittany has always watched her drive, ever since the first time she took them on a double date to Breadstix with Jeff and Tim the Friday after she got her driver's license.

* * *

"_Quit staring at me, Britt," Santana said, glancing for a millisecond at Brittany. She shifts in her Cheerios uniform uncomfortably._

_ "I'm not staring," Brittany says. "I'm just watching you drive."_

_ "It's the same thing, Britt. Besides, what are you looking at, anyway?"_

_ "You. You look so grown-up, driving."_

_ "You've been driving for like, six months, Brittany."_

_ "It's still crazy to see you do it."_

_ "You're crazy, Britt. Adorable, but crazy."_

* * *

"You mean the place we eat at every time we go to Big Sur?" Santana asks, chuckling.

"Yeah, that one," Brittany says with a grin.

* * *

Their usual place is really just a bar with some food. Brittany has always refused to eat "true" roadside food, and Santana has always refused to eat a $30 fish entree when they're just stopping en route, so, as a result, this pub has become a bit of a tradition for them.

They sit silently at the restaurant, picking at their food, Santana drinking a pint of Blue Moon.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Santana asks.

"What's weird?"

"Well, we don't spend that much time together, without the kids these days."

"I think it's kind of nice," Brittany says. "The quiet. I never thought I'd say that." She giggles.

"I think I love it," Santana says, taking Brittany's hand in her own and kissing her knuckles. "I really think that I love it, Britt."

* * *

"Comida, comida, comida!" Nico sings, banging his spoon on his high chair.

"Do you have any idea what he's saying?" Quinn asks Rachel, wincing as Olivia screams in her ear.

"Not a single one. I love Mr. Schuester, but he really was a terrible Spanish teacher." Quinn pulls up the Spanish translator application on her refrigerator iPad, and types in "comida".

"It means food," Quinn says to Rachel, turning around to see Rachel bouncing a screaming Nico up and down. "Little man is hungry," Quinn says.

"Dinner will be ready in a minute, mijo," Rachel coos into his ear. Nico leans his head away from her and his eyes widen. Rachel smiles at him.

"Mama!" He screams, his voice reaching a pitch that Rachel didn't even know was possible for humans. It sets off a chain reaction and Olivia starts wailing, the tears streaming down her face as she cries for her mothers.

"What are you doing to my cousins?" Lily asks, storming into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. She reaches up and takes him from Rachel. "Está bien, Nico, está bien. Lily está aquí." Nico's cries slowly turn into soft whimpers and finally just a gentle gurgling noise.

"How did you do that?" Quinn asks, in awe of a now calm Nico, sucking on his thumb.

"Aunt S told me to make sure you take care of the babies, and you are _obviously_not doing a good job, so I'm in charge now." Lily says.

"Oh, are you, young lady?" Quinn asks.

"Yes, I am." She glares at her mother, daring her to reply.

"Fine, if you can get him to stop crying while I finish with dinner, then so be it," Quinn says. "Just stay where I can see you, okay, Lily?"

"Fine, Mom," Lily says, taking Nico to sit with her at their new kitchen table.

* * *

Santana closes her eyes the moment they're back in the car and pulling onto the PCH. She turns the volume up on the radio—not so loud to distract from Brittany's driving, but loud enough to hum along.

"It's really beautiful, Santana," Brittany says, glancing for a moment toward her wife. Santana's eyes aren't closed at the moment, but they're fixated on the high rock walls to their right. "I know you don't want to look at it, but it really is gorgeous."

"I know, Britt," Santana says, still not turning to face her. "I've seen it before. Remember the first time we came up here?" Santana shifts in her seat.

"Of course I do," Brittany says, giggling a bit. "You were super excited to take the 1, and you took one look over at the ocean and panicked. It was so cute."

"I wasn't that bad," Santana says, her eyes still fixed on the wall of rock to her right.

"You pulled over the first time we came to a scenic viewpoint and threw up."

"I didn't want to plummet into the ocean and take you with me!"

"I know, sweetheart," Brittany says, taking Santana's hand. "It was a really nice trip anyway."

"I miss my Dad," Santana says, squeezing Brittany's hand a little tighter.

* * *

_2016  
_

_"What are you doing, baby?" Brittany asks, walking into their tiny apartment. Santana is crouched over her computer on the couch, the TV set silently on CNN. The apartment is a mess. Their apartment has never been a bastion of cleanliness, however, it's particularly messy at the moment. There are rings on the coffee table from the various beverages Santana's had throughout the day, and a bottle of whiskey that was nearly full when Brittany left that morning is down to a little less than half. There's an open box of pizza on the kitchen counter, and papers strewn everywhere._

_ "I'm looking for airfare," Santana says, barely looking up from her computer._

_ "Where are you going?"  
_

_ "I'm going home," Santana says._

_ "For how long?"_

_ "I don't know. It depends on how much plane tickets are."_

_ "Wait, you're paying for this yourself? Baby, how do you have the money for plane tickets?" Brittany asks, sliding in next to Santana and wrapping her arm around her shoulder._

_ "I don't right now…I just…my Dad won't pay for me to come home because he wants me to keep living my life, and he keeps saying that he'll be fine. But what if he's not fine, Britt? What then? And I miss all of these opportunities to spend with him?"_

_ "San, your Dad's a doctor. I'm sure if he says he'll be fine, then he will be. But, if you'd like, I just got paid for that gig I had a month ago, and I can afford to buy us plane tickets back to Ohio if you'd like."_

_ "You'd do that for me, Britt?"_

_ "Of course. I'd give you the world if I could, Santana."_

* * *

"I'm sorry, honey," Brittany says. They drive along the winding roads in silence until Brittany suddenly pulls into the scenic view spot off the side of the road.

"What are you doing, baby? You know I'm not into these things!" Santana doesn't sound annoyed, per se, she sounds tired.

"This is the spot you vomited in. Nine years ago, you vomited right here."

"I really don't want to relive this memory, Britt."

"Please just look at the view for a second with me, San? I promise that we won't stop after this until we get to Big Sur."

Santana groans but climbs out of the car anyway, moving her legs with unnecessary dramatics as they wait from the road to be free and run across so that they can look over the guard rail at the view below. It is beautiful. Santana thinks it's much more beautiful when she is on foot and has more control over plummeting over the edge than when she's trapped in a car. Brittany leads her to the bench and they sit down, soaking in the violet sky.

* * *

_2016_

_"Let's just go home, Britt," Santana says, spitting into the dirt. Brittany hands her a bottle of water and Santana swishes it around her mouth before spitting back into the earth. "I know my Dad says that he doesn't want us coming back, that he'd rather we take this vacation, but I really want to go home and be with my family._

_ "Why don't we take in some fresh air, San," Brittany says, taking both of Santana's hands to pull her up from her crouched position. They run across the street so they can take in the view. Brittany rubs small circles into the small of Santana's back, waiting for her breath to even out. Santana looks up at Brittany once she realizes that she can breathe again._

_ "I'm sorry, Britt. You're my family too, you know." Santana says, looking up at her. _

_ "I know, baby," Brittany says, kissing her temple. "We're all family, aren't we?"_

_ "I think so," Santana says. "I'd like to think so."_

* * *

"One day we should take the kids up here," Brittany says as they climb back into the car.

"And my mom," Santana says. She leans out of her seat and kisses Brittany's shoulder. She can see the way the cliffs drop thirty feet down and the ocean splashes against their walls in rhythmic, violent, motion. "It really is beautiful, Brittany," she says, kissing her shoulder again and then turning away from the steep fall as Brittany takes a hairpin turn expertly in their SUV. "It's beautiful, but scary."

"Isn't that the case with all good things? They're the most beautiful, but they're also the most terrifying."

* * *

"I don't miss having babies," Quinn says, once they have all five children in bed. "I don't think I'm going to miss having elementary school aged kids, either."

"You say that now, Quinn," Rachel says, tucking a hair behind Quinn's ear, "but just wait until they're in high school."

"Oh, please. High School will be easy. They can drive themselves, they'll just care about boys and avoiding me as much as possible. It will be a cakewalk."

"Do you actually _remember_ High School, Quinn?"

"And they won't be allowed around boys. Period. Or girls, for that matter. And there will be an unlimited supply of condoms in every bathroom in the house."

"That sounds extremely effective." Rachel says, smiling. She sits down in front of Quinn on the couch and allows her to rub her shoulders. "Where did Brittany and Santana go this weekend, anyway?"

"Big Sur. They've been renting a vacation house out there for years—for longer than they should have known what a vacation house was. They were going to go for Valentine's Day this year, but we had those rains, and Santana is always scared of driving on the freeway in that area."

"Why?"

"She'd never admit to it, but she's scared of heights, and that's the beautiful part of the PCH that winds along the coast, up

"How do you know that? Santana is usually so secretive about what scares her." Rachel says, burying her face into Quinn's neck, and placing a small kiss above Quinn's collarbone.

"It's amazing what you notice in Santana if you really pay attention," Quinn says. They remain in the same position, Rachel's nose buried in Quinn's neck, allowing the silence to move around them. "She's full of everything, you know," Quinn says, when Rachel breaks the calm by pressing her lips to Quinn's neck again. "You just have to know how to listen to her."

"I think I'm beginning to learn that," Rachel says.

"Good," Quinn says, kissing Rachel's temple. "Once you do, she'll be the best friend you've ever had."

* * *

"Wake up, honey," Brittany says, gently nudging Santana's shoulder. "We're here," she whispers, kissing Santana's temple.

Santana slowly opens her eyes. It's dark outside. 'We're here?" She asks.

"We are," Brittany says. She rubs Santana's chin with her thumb. "You have a little drool," she whispers.

"Gross," Santana says, sitting up straight and pushing Brittany's hand away from her face so that she can wipe the drool of herself.

"It's cute drool," Brittany says.

"There's no such thing as cute drool, and just because we've been together forever doesn't mean it will ever be appropriate for you to wipe drool off of my face, okay?"

"You always drool, San," Brittany says, "now get up and help me with the bags, okay?" Santana groans but opens the door to the SUV and climbs out.

"This place never really changes, does it?" Santana asks as they walk through the front door.

"That's my favorite part about it."

They quickly unpack their things; it's late and both of them are tired from their long days and the drive.

"Its too late to go to the grocery store," Brittany says, hopping onto the kitchen counter like she's sixteen-years-old.

"I brought reinforcements," Santana says. She reaches into her large purse and pulls out two bottles of champagne.

"Did you bring food?" Brittany asks.

"No, but I brought champagne," Santana says, looking at Brittany, hopefully. "Don't you still have that beef jerky you bought at the gas station?"

"Beef jerky is only allowed while you're on the road. Everyone knows that. It's like truck driver law, or something."

"Well, you can eat that."

"What if we get hungry for something other than jerky?"

"I'm sorry, Britt, I didn't think of everything," Santana says, shrugging her shoulders and trying to control her glare. "What do you want from me?"

"I just thought…" Brittany begins, jumping off the counter and running her hand down Santana's arm.

"I mean, really, Britt, I try and try to make things right, and I can never win with you. I mean, I brought this champagne, and it was super-expensive and recommended to me by an executive at Paramount. I also have vodka in the suitcase." Santana says, rolling her eyes and taking a step away from Brittany, crossing her arms over her chest. She huffs and then reaches into her purse. "I also _may_ have a bag of gummy bears," she says taking a bag out and putting it on the counter. "And a bag of sour patch kids and a bag of peach-o's," she says, throwing those on the counter as well. She tries to keep her glare on as she sees Brittany's face light up. "There also _might_be popcorn, trail mix, macaroni & cheese, and cereal for the morning in my suitcase…"

"Is that why you bought that little thing of milk at the gas station?" Brittany asks.

"Perhaps," Santana says. Brittany wraps her arms around her wife's waist, in that giant, teenage, no-holds-barred, kind of a way.

"I thought you were actually mad," Brittany says, kissing Santana's nose. "Which didn't make any sense, because I knew that if you remembered to bring the booze you'd remember to bring the snacks for the booze because you know I can't drink without snacks and you wouldn't forget something like that because you are my perfect, _perfect_."

"I'm your perfect, perfect, am I?"

"Yup. You're my perfect, perfect everything, Santana."

* * *

_2022_

_"I wanted to talk to you about something," Brittany says. It's their first night in Big Sur. It's their first time coming since Santana's father passed away. Santana feels her heart drop in her chest. This is the last thing she needs right now._

_ "Brittany, please, honey. Can't we just have a nice weekend up in our old vacation spot?" Santana asks, taking both of Brittany's hands in her own._

_ "I've just been putting this off for so long, Santana, and I'd really like if we could talk about this now so that we can enjoy the rest of our weekend. Why don't I pour us some champagne?" Santana hates that she's so transparent that Brittany knows she brought champagne with her, as though a little bubbly will solve all of the problems that she's been creating for them in the last year. Brittany pours a glass for each of them and leads them to the couch._

_ "Can I say something first?" Santana asks, drinking her entire glass in one gulp and holding in the burp that inevitably tried to follow. "I'm sorry, Britt. I'm so sorry. I know that I've been distant and preoccupied in the last few months. In the last year, even. I know it's no excuse, but seeing my father like that…I know he was so sick for so long, but he did such a good job at hiding it that when it was the end, it was just hard to realize that my big, strong, Dad was no longer there. I let our relationship suffer because I was so sad, and that's not fair of me, and it's not right, but I want you to know that I'm here now. I'm here, and I'm ready to do whatever has to be done to repair our relationship."_

_ "San, why are you apologizing?" Brittany asks, running a hand down Santana's cheek, wiping away a tear. "You've done absolutely nothing wrong. This was a terrible, difficult time for our family, and you needed to deal with it the way you needed to deal with it."_

_ "Thank you," Santana says._

_ "It also made me realize a lot about myself, and about doing what I need and making sure that I live this life the best way I know how. I've always been true to myself, Santana, you know that, and I've just realized that life is too short to live in a way that doesn't feel true to me."_

_ "You've met someone new, haven't you?"_

_ "What? Of course not! That's what you got out of that speech?"_

_ "Yes! Living with me isn't enough for you anymore! I don't provide enough happiness, I've been depressed, stalled in my life."_

_ "No, Santana," Brittany says, taking her hands. She gets up from the couch and refills Santana's glass of champagne. "I want to have a baby," Brittany says as she hands Santana her glass. "I want to start a family."_

_ "What?"_

_ "These last few months have made me realize that we can't always wait until it's the perfect time, the perfect situation. I want to have a family with you, and I want to have one as soon as possible."_

_ "So, you don't want to leave me?"_

_ "Of course not, honey! What made you think that?"_

_ "You've just been so strange, lately. You've been sketchy about what you're doing and where you're going and what you're thinking. I thought you'd had enough of my grieving process."_

_ "Baby. You deserve to grieve your father. I would never tell you that you had to stop because I was tired of it. _I _had to grieve your father too. I've been researching lesbian parenthood, that's why I've been so sketchy lately." Santana pulls Brittany into a kiss._

_ "I'm just so relieved. You're definitely not leaving me?"_

_ "Definitely not anytime soon." They kiss and Santana strokes the side of Brittany's cheek._

_ "Wait. You want to have a baby?" Santana asks, pulling away._

_ "Now, there's the reaction I was expecting!" Brittany says, laughing._

_ "No, no!' Santana says, taking a gulp of her champagne. "I would love to start a family with you. Now, tell me what all of this research has helped you find out."_

* * *

"I told you that you were my _perfect,_perfect, Santana," Brittany says, holding her hand over the edge of the bathtub for Santana to refill her glass of Champagne. There are bubbles crawling their way up the bones on her hand, past her wrist and her forearm as she dangles her hand over the edge.

"Did you tell me that?" Santana asks.

"I did," Brittany says. "You're perfect, and soft and wonderful and you refill my Champagne without me even having to ask."

"Well, you're _my_ perfect, perfect, Ms. Brittany Pierce."

"Mrs. Brittany Pierce-_Lopez_, Mrs. Santana Pierce-Lopez." Brittany says, taking a sip of her champagne.

"I'm sorry, darling, I was reliving our younger days in this bathtub."

"First of all, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, we're still young," Brittany says, running her hands up Santana's soapy thigh, "second of all, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, no one could be more perfect than you."

* * *

_2019_

"_I brought the champagne," Santana says, giving Brittany her usual half-smile._

"_Baby, if there's one thing I'm confident you'll never forget to bring, it's the champagne._

"_I just like to celebrate when there are things worthy of celebrating," Santana says, shrugging her shoulders._

"_And what are we celebrating on this lovely trip to Big Sur?"_

"_So many things. My first real job at a real law firm, your job with "Chorus Line" at the Pantages, my Dad doing a little better than before. _

"_And the even more frightening 15 year mortgage we have to pay off," Brittany says._

"_See, there's a lot to celebrate."_

"_I want to take a bath…we spend all momentous moments in Big Sur in the bath. Can a moment be momentous?"_

"_I think so," Santana says, leading Brittany toward the bathroom. They rarely go up to Big Sur in the middle of winter, so it's exciting to see the snow and the way the icicles attach to the trees outside. They may have grown up in an area with seasons, but they've been away from them for long enough that they now seem like a novelty item. The bathroom in Big Sur has a picture window overlooking the woods and the ocean on a clear day. Santana settles into the back of the tub, allowing Brittany to lean against the front of her, the tips of her hair floating in the water. _

"_I love you, Britt," Santana says, kissing her temple._

"_I love you too, Santana," Brittany replies, a little timidly. They say I love you all the time, but there's something about the gravity with which Santana says it in this moment that indicates to Brittany that it means something more._

"_I'm really glad we came here again. I'm really happy for all the times that we've come here."_

"_Me too, San. Is everything okay?" Brittany asks, shifting in the tub so that she is facing Santana._

"_Everything is perfect. This place is perfect, and you're perfect, and our life feels perfect right now. It's like, you know when you're younger, and you picture adulthood and all of the things that you'd like to happen but in the back of your mind you know that they may not end up being realities? I feel like all of my dreams, all of my silly, middle school dreams are coming true. I'm so happy with you Brittany. I'm so happy with our life."_

"_I am too, Santana, but you're scaring me."_

"_I want to marry you," Santana blurts out. This is not the speech she prepared. She hasn't even brought out the assorted candy bowl she made and "I want to marry you" was supposed to come at the end of the speech, not the beginning._

"_I want to marry you," Santana says again, realizing that the speech has long gone out the window and she's going to have to improvise from here. "Everything in my life is perfect, Brittany. Perfect as it is. Beyond my wildest expectations. I always thought that marriage was stupid—like it was a government issued contract binding us together, when there's no way a contract means more than a pinky link between us. I realize now, though, that I want more than just to spend my life with you. I already know that I will spend my life with you. I want to make you, legally, my family, the way you already are in my heart. Will you do me the honor, Ms. Brittany Susan Pierce, of becoming my wife?"_

* * *

"Our younger days were pretty nice, weren't they?" Brittany asks, allowing her hand to linger at the top of Santana's thigh.

"Our older days are pretty nice too, aren't they?" Santana asks.

"Mhmm," Brittany says, turning her head so she can kiss Santana. "I think," she says, shifting her body so that she's completely facing Santana with her body in between Santana's legs, "our older years," she continues, kissing Santana gently on the mouth, "are going to be really, _really_ awesome."

"It seems like it," Santana says, deepening the kiss and smirking a bit at the sound of Brittany's moan.

* * *

"I'm so tired," Quinn says, rolling over in the bed and trying to smack the baby monitor off like an alarm clock.

"Love, I don't think that smacking the baby monitor will turn the crying off."

"You don't know that," Quinn says, rolling over so that she and Rachel are facing one another.

"I _do _know that, and we have to get up," Rachel says, brushing Quinn's bangs out of her face. Quinn leans into Rachel and pecks her lips.

"I don't miss having toddlers in the household. Is that terrible?" Quinn asks, kissing Rachel once more before pulling away for her answer.

"Absolutely not. Imagine the things we could do with this morning if there were no toddler's in the house," Rachel says, kissing Quinn again, with a bit more fervor this time.

"Things like this?" Quinn asks, running her hand up Rachel's shirt.

"Mom! Rach! The babies won't stop crying and Lily keeps yelling that it's my shift and I don't know what she's talking about!" Hannah yells from the hallway. Rachel and Quinn stop kissing just in time for Hannah to barge in to the room. "So, I think it's your shift, whatever that means," Hannah says, gesticulating at the bed and storming back out of the room. Quinn throws her head back onto the pillow.

"So many children ruining my life right now," Quinn mumbles to herself. "So many."

"You love it," Rachel says, grinning. "Now get up! We have toddlers to tend to!" Rachel hops out of bed and wraps a robe around herself.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're _way _too chipper in the morning?" Quinn asks, stretching as she climbs from bed.

"It may have come up once or twice," Rachel says, grinning, and walking out of the door.

* * *

"You went to the grocery store," Brittany says, walking into the kitchen the next morning.

"I did," Santana replies. "You didn't put any clothes on," she says as she looks up at her wife.

"Unnecessary. Although I am a little chilly," Brittany admits. "I was so confused when I woke up and you weren't there," Brittany says, wrapping her arms around Santana's back. Santana is leaning over the griddle, flipping shredded potatoes to make hash browns. "I thought we were going to have one of those college mornings." Santana leans her head back to raise her eyebrows at Brittany. "I know I didn't go to college, baby, I just meant the kinds of mornings we had when _you_ were in college."

"_That_ was not the reason for the look, baby. I was wondering what exactly a college morning was."

"Duh. A college morning is one of those mornings where you have to do research for you Senior thesis or have a big test in copyright law coming up and I have an unpaid choreography gig and my day job to get to and we plan on getting up at nine, and we kind of do, but we cuddle from 9-10 and then we have sex from 10-11, and by the time we've walked to the store and eaten breakfast we lost all the extra time. 'College Morning Time'."

"I did like those times," Santana says, leaning into Brittany. "I woke up really early, though, and I didn't want to wake you because you looked so peaceful sleeping, like a little puppy dog. Then I was thinking about all of those times you made me the Grand Slamtana, and I thought it was well-past my turn to make you a Grand Slamtittany. Besides, we have no unpaid gigs or day jobs or copyright law classes to get to, so really we can cuddle and have sex all day."

"You called Quinn to check on the babies, didn't you?" Brittany asks, pulling away and smirking. "It's okay, if you did. I like you're overprotective, crazy mom act. In fact, I just like anytime I can call you 'mom'."

"Creepy, Britt. Please don't call me 'mom' for the duration that we're on this romantic vacation."

"I'll try," Brittany says, kissing Santana on the cheek. "It really does smell delicious."

"I learned from the best," Santana says.

"Grand Slamtittany really has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

"I guess it does, Britt," Santana says, grinning, and flipping the potatoes one last time.

* * *

"I don't know why we agreed to this," Rachel says to Quinn, plastering a Band-Aid on a scratch on her arm.

"Because Brittany is our friend and she'll know if we don't play with Lord Tubbington."

"How will she know? And why does she name all of her cats Lord Tubbington?"

"She just will. You know Britt, she has a sixth sense about these things. And, to be honest, I don't think Britt's the one who keeps naming the cats Lord Tubbington. I think she gives them new names, but they all just get so fat so quickly that Santana insists on calling them all Lord Tubbington. I'm pretty sure this one was named Mafalda at some point, and the outdoor cat was named Susanita before they became Lord Tubbington IV and Cat."

"Well, Mafalda is kind of a bitch." Rachel says, glowering as the cat hisses at her.

"I don't know what your problem is with her," Lily says, skipping over to the couch next to Mafalda/Lord Tubbington. The cat climbs into Lily's lap and begins to purr. "She's so cute and chubby."

"I swear to God, Santana has put some kind of spell on my child. Or some kind of curse on me." Quinn says.

"I wouldn't put it past her," Rachel shrugs.

* * *

They decide to spend the rest of their morning walking through town. It's a little chilly—at least chilly for them—so they bundle up and check out all of their favorite spots. The café that sells the homemade Blackberry Jam that Brittany swears by.

"It makes boring, dry, toast, a magical flavor explosion in my mouth, Santana." Santana just raises her eyebrows at Brittany's decision to purchase three jars. "I don't understand why you're looking at me like that. It tastes like elves went to heaven and picked Blackberries from Hogwarts bushes used to feed gummy bears and brought them back via the unicorn express."

"Britt, there are way to many ethereal, candy related mixed metaphors there for me to understand, but go ahead and buy as many jars as you like."

They buy an Apple Pie at the bakery and finally make it to the bookstore-one of Santana's favorite spots. She likes the way the bell rings when they walk in and how there never appears to be any clerks on duty and even how the smell of the books makes her sneeze a bit. They lose each other after a few moments, browsing in their respective sections and allowing the other to take time reading the jackets of the books that interest them.

Brittany finds Santana twenty minutes later sitting on a tiny red stool in the children's section. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Brittany can't help but smirk at how much she looks like she used to when she was in Law School and was struggling over Copyright or Tenant Law. Only now it's illustrated and with letters as large as some of the pages in her law textbooks.

"Remember when you used to go into bookstores and browse the history and political science sections?"

"So much more boring than this," Santana says, looking up when she hears Brittany's voice. "It's more colorful."

"Much more my style, San," Brittany says.

"Check out this section. It's Gay and Lesbian children's books. I didn't know they had enough Gay and Lesbian children's books for an entire section."

"I like that. It's nice."

"I'm thinking about getting this one," Santana says, holding out a book called "Mommy, Mama, and Me." Brittany takes the book from her.

"Mommy picks me up, up, up. Mama pours juice in my cup. Mommy gently combs my hair. Mama rocks me in her chair. Mommy packs a yummy snack. Mama rides me on her back."

"It's adorable, isn't it?"

"It's perfect. It's just like our little family."

* * *

"Have you ever gone up to Big Sur with them?" Rachel asks. It's a little past two and Lily has been fast asleep for an hour with the cat curled up on her stomach. Nico and Olivia are also asleep in their cribs, and it's much better than they've slept since they've been away from home, so Quinn and Rachel decided to just let them sleep. They've been looking through the photo albums that Brittany and Santana keep in their coffee table.

"I never have," Quinn says. "It's _their_ place, you know? They've never invited me, and I've never thought to ask."

"But Big Bear was your and Justin's place, and you brought them there. It doesn't seem quiet fair if you ask me. I mean, seriously, this place looks beautiful."

"Justin and I never really had a place that was _ours_. What we had was different than what Brittany and Santana have. There's just something inherently more private about their relationship. Can't you feel it? They don't need to speak to communicate with one another. It's inexplicable and beautiful and reminds me a little bit of aliens."

"Aliens, Quinn?"

"Yes, aliens. Like they have their own culture and language and means of communicating and sometimes they need to return to the home planet to reboot or something."

"And what exactly do they do when they're on the 'home planet', Quinn?"

"From what I gather, the just take a lot of baths."

"You know you sound insane, right?"

"I spend the vast majority of my time with people under the age of ten. You love me anyway, right?"

"Of course I do. Doesn't make you any less crazy.

* * *

It's a little after two by the time they get back to the house. Santana lights a fire in the fireplace and Brittany puts their numerous food purchases into the refrigerator. When she returns to the living room, Santana is curled on her side on the couch, her book in hand.

"What are you reading?" Brittany asks.

"Fried Green Tomatoes," Santana replies, not looking up from her book.

"Santana, you've read that like a hundred times. Why did you buy a new one?"

"I don't know where my copy is." Santana slides next to Brittany on the couch and runs her hand along Santana's calf, up her thigh, and over her hip. She allows the tips of her fingers to trail underneath the hem of Santana's shirt, gently grazing the soft skin just above her hipbone.

"What you doin', Britt?" Santana asks, barely looking up from her book.

"Just touching you," Brittany replies. She places a soft kiss to Brittany's belly button, then one up the center of her body until the tip of her nose bumps the bottom of Santana's cleavage. Out of the corner of her eye she can see that Santana is no longer actually reading, but smirking into her book.

"This fire is pretty romantic, don't you think, San?" Brittany asks, her lips still touching Santana's body.

"It's okay," Santana says, shrugging. Brittany pulls away and takes a magazine off of the coffee table, reading it on the other side of the couch.

"What are you doing now, Britt-Britt?"

"Reading."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Well, what else would I be doing?"

"I don't know…maybe a little of what you were doing before?"

"I thought that you said the romantic fire was just okay?"

"I was just playing with you, Britt," Santana whines.

"Well, two can play at that game," Brittany replies. "This is another phrase that never really made sense to me. Two can play at any game, don't you think? I mean, if anything, two is not enough to play a number of games, but a game played by only one person has got to be the dullest game in existence. Like Solitaire. Or Minesweeper."

"Brittany."

"Yes, Santana."

"If you stop talking, I'm going to fuck you now."

Santana throws her book on the ground and climbs on top of Brittany, kissing her hard and with purpose. It's been longer than either of them would like to remember since they've had sex during the day, the sun bright and shining through the windows.

It doesn't take long to find a rhythm, Santana's hips rocking into Brittany's as she leaves sloppy, open mouth kisses along Brittany's sternum and collarbone.

"Take this off, Britt," Santana says, a little desperately as she tugs at the hem of Brittany's shirt.

"You too," Brittany says. They part for a moment to take off their shirts, and Santana follows Brittany's cue and removes her pants and underwear. She gasps as their bodies make contact again, wet and slippery against one another.

"You feel so good, Santana," Brittany says, gasping at the feeling of Santana's thigh rhythmically pressing into her. Santana can't let out more than a nod and a gasp, her eyes wide as they rock against one another. Their pace quickens, their heart rates quicken, and Santana slips a hand between Brittany's legs, first tracing a line from the her slick folds to back up to where her hair begins and then back down again.

"I need more, San," Brittany says as Santana presses her fingers into Brittany's clit, and then moves further so her fingers enter Brittany.

"Oh fuck," Santana gasps.

"Harder," Brittany says. Santana licks behind Brittany's ear as she quickens her pace and uses her thigh for leverage. Brittany's clutching the throw pillow so tightly her knuckles turn white and her legs begin to tremble.

"Oh, right there, Santana, right there…" She tightens her legs around Santana's waist as she lets out a high pitched scream, her muscles twitching around Santana's fingers.

"Oh fuck," Brittany says as her body finally relaxes and she collapses into the couch. "You are so good to me." Santana smiles into the crook of Brittany's neck. Without warning, Brittany flips them over so that she's straddling Santana on the couch.

"I'm going to make you come so hard, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, you aren't going to be able to walk for a week." Brittany says, winking.

* * *

It's late when Santana wakes Brittany up, leaving a small line of kisses up her arm and over to her neck.

"You're beautiful when you sleep," Santana says, watching Brittany's eyes slowly flutter open. "I can't believe we've been sleeping on this couch for so long."

"Dinner, Santana," Brittany says through a groan. "I have to eat. I'm so hungry."

"I'll make you something, baby."

"No, let's make it together," Brittany says. She climbs off the couch and slips her underwear on, tying her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.

"God, why do you have to be so fucking sexy when we have to do productive things."

"Productive things are so much more fun when there's sex involved, don't you think, Santana?"

"Oh, you know me so well, baby." Santana climbs off the couch and puts on a pair of sweatpants, following Brittany into the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Something that doesn't splatter too much when it's hot. I don't want you to burn your boobs."

"I was thinking we could make soup. Since it's so cold." Brittany nods and Santana takes out the cutting board as Brittany unloads some vegetables and meat from the refrigerator. Santana quickly sets about chopping the celery as Brittany slides behind her, wrapping her hands around Santana's bare waist.

"You're not wearing any panties, are you?" Brittany says, slipping her finger past the waistband of Santana's USC sweatpants and over her soft curls. Santana yelps in surprise.

"Britt! I thought you were going to help?"

"I was, but then I got distracted by how nice your boobs look and how sexy your spine is and the beautiful way your waist curves into your hip bones and I thought maybe I could help you in a different way."

"Do you want to eat or not, Britt?" Santana asks, gasping a little as Brittany's fingers move further into her pants.

"I just don't know what I want to eat now," Brittany says, pouting a little.

"Fine," Santana says, walking out of the kitchen and returning a moment later with a white tank top on.

"But now I can see your nipples through the shirt and you know how that turns me on."

"Britt!" Santana yells. She's trying to sound mad but her grin in stretching across her face and she knows that Britt can see it. "God, why did I marry such a sexual deviant! You're addicted!"

"Only because you're so good at it, Santana."

"Don't try to butter me up, Britt. Either we die of malnutrition or you get out a cutting board and we get this dinner going."

"Fine," Brittany says, grabbing the other cutting board out from under the counter. "But you should know, it turns me on when you get all harsh with me."

* * *

Quinn is trying to chop the vegetables for the lasagna, but Rachel sounds like she's crying along with Nico and Olivia in the other room. Lily is screaming at Hannah, Harper sounds like she's jumping rope or doing jumping jacks or something else inappropriate for indoor behavior. Something crashes to the ground. Quinn wipes her hands on the towel hanging from the oven and turns up the music on the radio.

"LILY!" Hannah screams. "LILY! Stop doing that! That hurts!" There's another crash, and Rachel's shrill voice.

"Girls, please calm down." Rachel says, her voice calm but about an octave higher than usual. Quinn turns the radio up.

"Lily! Lily, stop it! Harper!" Rachel screams. Quinn sighs. She definitely did _not _sign up for this. She storms into the living room.

"LISTEN!" Quinn screams, wishing she didn't have a chopping knife in hand because she's pretty sure she looks like a maniac right about now. "Lily, Hannah, and Harper! Each of you get in a corner, facing me!" The girls oblige and move into corners, with only a brief spat between Lily and Harper about which one they're going to.

"You three are getting your cousins and Lola riled up. This behavior will stop now. I want all three of you in your respective rooms until dinner time. No discussion." Quinn says, pointing at Harper who is about to open her mouth.

"Lily! Leave Lola here," Quinn yells, her back to Lily.

"How did you know?"

"It doesn't matter how I knew, put the dog down." Once the girls have made their march upstairs, Quinn takes Nico from a very disheveled looking Rachel.

"Let's finish dinner, now, shall we?" Quinn asks, cheerily.

"You really scare me sometimes, Quinn," Rachel says.

"That's the idea," Quinn replies, giving Rachel a peck on the lips. "Now, seriously, lets finish dinner, because the faster they eat the faster we can get them to bed, and the faster Brittany and Santana will be back to relieve me of this nightmare."

* * *

"Are you scared?" Brittany asks, later than night as they're drifting off into sleep. She moves closer so that their bare legs are more intertwined than they were before. Their faces are just far enough apart that they can focus on one another, and Brittany runs a finger down the bridge of Santana's nose.

"Scared of what?" Santana whispers.

"Scared of having more children? Of getting pregnant? Of having a baby?"

"Of course I am," Santana says. "I'm scared shitless." She adjusts herself in the bed so that she can kiss the top of Brittany's head. "I'm also really excited though. It's good that we came here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We always come here when life changes in a big way. It helps to remind me that you and I are the constant. No matter what life throws at us, we always have each other."

"I really love you, Santana."

"I really love you too, Brittany."

* * *

"I hate them," Quinn says, curling into Rachel in her bed.

"I hate them too," Rachel replies. "And careful, please don't touch my cat scratches, they actually really burn."

"Those fucking cats are the devil, that dog is the devil, and God bless my Godchildren, but I would swear on my life that Santana somehow impregnated Brittany herself considering how difficult and ornery those toddlers can be. Those bitches are probably off having wild sex marathons this weekend, leaving us here to deal with their shit."

"I wish we were having a sex marathon." Rachel says.

"When do they get back?"

"Three tomorrow. I swear if they are a moment late, I'm tripling the amount of babysitting time they owe me."

"I support that wholeheartedly."

* * *

"I love Big Sur," Brittany says, kissing Santana on the lips as she throws the last of their bags into the back of the car.

"Me too, Britt," Santana says climbing into the passenger seat.

"I miss Nico and Olivia, though."

"Me too."

"I think I'm done with the quiet."

"Yeah. It was nice, but I'm ready for our loud, _loud_ children again."

"Do you think Quinn will be mad that we're running late?"

"Nah. And that morning sex was totally worth it," Santana says as Brittany turns the key in the ignition.

* * *

"It's five," Quinn says. "I'm actually really worried that I may kill Santana.

"I think there are other solutions," Rachel says, just as the door swings open.

"How were my babies?" Santana asks as she walks straight past Rachel into Quinn to take Olivia from her. "Where the F is Nico?"

"My precious daughter has him, just as you wanted, Santana. It's nice to see you, by the way. You're welcome for watching your children and your unnecessary number of pets this weekend."

"Oh, please, Quinn. Like I haven't done it for you nine times over." Quinn rolls her eyes, but it's more than apparent that Brittany and Santana care little for what she has to say in the moment.

"Look at our beautiful little babies," Brittany coos. They each have a twin in their arms now, and they're showering the suddenly calm and happy toddlers with kisses. "You are such good little babies. So good for Aunties Quinn and Rachel."

"You've got to be kidding me with this," Rachel says to Quinn.

"Devils. Those children are devils. It's the only explanation." Lily runs into the room and quietly says hello to Santana and Brittany, hugging each of them around the legs.

"That's it," Quinn says. "I'm giving all the kids to them. It's there problem now," she says, walking out of the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Santana asks Rachel.

"Rough weekend." Rachel says, shrugging her shoulders and following Quinn.

Brittany and Santana watch them leave, and then Brittany gives Santana a quick peck.

"I don't see what could have gone wrong. Everything seems perfectly calm," Brittany says.

"I don't know," Santana says, "but let's get out of here. I'll see you for your guitar lesson, right, Lil?" Lily nods and Brittany and Santana leave the house.

* * *

Rachel finds Quinn upstairs in Lily's room, rifling through her toy chest.

"What are you doing, Quinn?" Rachel asks, resting her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"I'm _looking_ for that note Santana gave my daughter. Lily hides all of her stuff in here." Quinn finds a crinkled piece of paper with Santana's handwriting on it.

_Lily-_

_ I'm trusting __you__ to take care of your cousins this weekend. Remember the Spanish I've taught you, it always calms them down. Don't forget to practice the guitar. And, remember, your Mom is the babysitter this weekend, so be just as good for your Mom and Rachel as you are when you stay with me and Aunt B._

_Just as good._

_ Love,_

_ Aunt S_

"That bitch," Quinn says, throwing the paper back in the toy chest. "I really may kill her one day."


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: **I'm sorry to leave you waiting so long for an update! This is the last chapter-there will be an epilogue posted in a few days. It's definitely not my best chapter, but I hope the epilogue will make up for that! And I look forward to reading your reviews!

* * *

The sound of rainfall begins at 5 in the morning. Brittany stirs slightly; Santana still sleeps like a rock, softly snoring. The sound morphs into a rainforest with birds chirping and the sound of waterfalls. On the other side of the bed, the sound of rain comes through the baby monitor.

"If it we didn't live in Southern California, I'd be sure that the party was ruined," Santana says from the other side of the bed, her voice muffled with her pillow, startling Brittany.

"It rains in Southern California. You know I hate it when people think we have no weather here."

"Sure, we have weather. We have the rainy season for two months and the super hot, dry, season for ten. And we're in the middle of the latter."

"True. And I guess I'm happy that it's just the Pierce-Lopez love of rain sounds and not _real _rain here to ruin our babies' second birthday party."

"Are you ready for today?" Santana asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

* * *

"Thanks for staying over last night," Quinn whispers to Rachel, tapping her nose with her index finger.

"Thanks for having me, again," Rachel responds.

"You know, I think that I'm okay with this whole thanking each other for everything habit we've fallen into."

"Me too. I really am grateful to have you in my life."

"Me too, you cheese-ball. Now, aren't you about half-an-hour past your workout regiment?"

"I can think of a better way to get my daily exercise," Rachel whispers, pressing in closer to Quinn.

"Na-uh. The girls are going to be up in any minute. Get up and go on your run, woman!"

* * *

Santana's a little sad for some reason, and she's not exactly sure why. Brittany is bathing the twins and her mother is outside making sure the string lights are even and perfectly spaced. The caterers have started to come and set up their food. They decided on no entertainment because the twins were two young to enjoy it, but to hire caterers so that they could spend time with their friends instead of running around cooking and cleaning and making sure that everyone has drinks.

"Something got you down, Santana?" Santana turns to see Frank standing in the doorway of her living room, two mugs in his hand. She forces a smile toward him.

"Just stressed out about the party. You're here early," she says. He smiles and a blush rushes up his neck to his ears. Santana smirks. "You stayed over, didn't you? My mother, that hussy." She laughs quietly to herself. Frank offers her one of the cups of coffee.

"I'll get another one for your mom in a second," he says, noticing the question in Santana's eyes. They stand next to each other in silence, sipping their coffee, and looking at the photographs on the mantle. "It's hard, I know, watching everyone grow up and change."

"What are you talking about?" She snaps.

He points to the pictures. There's one of Santana and Brittany on their wedding day, one of Brittany in bed with the twins the day they were born, Santana beaming over Brittany's shoulder. There's a picture of Brittany dancing when she was with the modern dance troupe when Santana was in college and a photo of her parents on their wedding day.

"Your babies turn two today. It seems like just yesterday you were running around making sure Brittany had everything she needed when she was pregnant. Like it was a week ago that you called your mom to tell her you and Brittany were engaged. Two weeks ago you were studying for the bar and wondering what the hell you were doing with your life. Like you just lost your father last month and it probably isn't more than six months ago that you were celebrating a birthday when you couldn't see above your father's knees."

Santana bites back her witty retort, knowing that Frank is right.

"Who knows," Frank continues, rubbing his brow and taking a sip of coffee. "It could just be that I'm an avidly anti-birthday person myself. I passed each birthday with a sense of loss. Loss of my twenties and then loss of my children's infancy, my children's childhood, being one-step closer to the loss of my own parents. It was my late-wife who taught me how to celebrate each year moving forward, how to celebrate change."

"I didn't know your wife passed away."

"When my boys were still young. Breast cancer. Embrace aging, Santana. Your babies may not be babies much longer, but, God, the joy your in for as you seem them develop into full-grown human beings with their own personalities and emotions is unsurpassed by anything you will experience in this lifetime. Anyway, that's enough of an old man's ramblings." He turns toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Frank?" Santana calls after him. He stops in the doorway. "You like football?"

"I was quite the Gridiron player in my day." Frank replies. Santana rolls her eyes.

"Well, we're a Bengals family, sometimes we have parties here on game-days. You should come sometimes."

"I'd like that, Santana," Frank says.

* * *

"I NEED MY GUITAR!"

"Lily, if you don't get into this car right now, we don't go to Aunt B's and S's at all. Do you understand me?" Quinn asks, her arms across her chest.

"If we don't have my guitar, I don't want to got at all _anyway!_" Lily exclaims.

"What has gotten into you, young lady?" Quinn asks, picking Lily up by the waist and sitting her down on the front stairs. Lily crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm serious, young lady, what is going on?"

"I just want my guitar."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it."

They stare at each other for a moment, Quinn suddenly very aware of genetics as she sees the icy-blue glare she perfected so well in High School mirrored back at her.

"Will you please tell me what's wrong? I really don't want to miss Nico and Olivia's party, but if you keep behaving like this, I'll have to send Harper and Hannah and Rachel without us." Lily sighs and rolls her eyes in a particularly Santana fashion and suddenly Quinn isn't certain how much has to do with genetics anymore.

"I hate all of you. And Dad is going to be there, and he's going to be mad that you have a new husband. And I don't want to give Nico and Olivia those stupid clothes because Aunt S told me when she got the puppy for Aunt B that the best gifts are thoughtful and personal."

"Honey, I don't have a new husband."

"What about Rachel? Isn't she your girlfriend?'

"Well, of course she is, but that's not the same as a husband."

"Oh." Lily says, her frown decreasing somewhat. "I thought they were the same thing."

"I loved you Dad, sweetheart, and I love Rachel. And now Rachel is Mommy's girlfriend, but that doesn't make Rachel Mommy's husband. Your Dad knows that Rachel is my girlfriend now."

"But aren't Aunt S and Aunt B husbands and wives?"

"No, they're just each others wives, sweetheart." Lily furrows her eyebrows together.

"I thought when you got married you became husband and wife."

"Well, when two women get married they become wives, and when two men get married then become husbands, and when a man and a woman get married they become husband and wife."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"And Rachel and I aren't married so she's my girlfriend."

"Can I get my guitar?"

"Why do you need your guitar, sweetheart?"

"Because Rachel told me that when you were in Ohio you combined peoples names and that she and Finn were 'Finchel' and Aunt S and Aunt B were 'Santittany' and I wrote a song about Nicovia I wanted to sing to them for their birthday because it's just from me and it's special because they're my favorite cousins." Quinn can't help but laugh out loud.

"Okay, darling, you go get your guitar."

"What was that about?" Rachel whispers when they get back in the car, guitar and all.

"I'll talk to you about it later, but let me just say, I'm glad my child's temper tantrums are about confusing gender lexicon and giving individualized gifts."

"They're good kids," Rachel says.

"God, I know. I'm lucky."

* * *

All of a sudden everyone is there. Neighbors, colleagues, friends, playmates from preschool. Everyone is mingling in corners—the dancers, the lawyers, the friends from High School and the friends from College, the other parents. There are the outliers—Justin stands awkwardly talking with Lily as though she's telling him the meaning of life. Mercedes is everyone's favorite guest because she has an infant and everyone loves babies.

Kurt and Sam are all over one another. Puck is drunk and regaling one of the dancer's who works with Brittany with a probably fake story about working on some action film. Even Sarah is there, and if Santana didn't know any better, she was hitting on Sasha, one of Santana's cheerleading friends from college.

"Remember, baby," Brittany whispers, sneaking up behind Santana. "This day is just about these squirts. They're two! You don't need to worry about all the other crap."

"God, why is everyone so worried about me today! I'm fine!" Santana defends herself. Nico reaches over to her and Santana takes him out of Brittany's arms. He swats Santana in between the eyes and then tries to place a big, open-mouthed kiss in between her eyebrows.

"See. You're furrowing. Even Nico can see it." Santana pulls her head away so she can look her son in the face.

"Am I furrowing little man?" She asks.

"Funny Mama," he replies. "Aguacate?"

"All this kid cares about is food. Let's get him some guacamole."

* * *

"You look good," Justin says, surprising Quinn at the food table. "You look happy," he continues.

"Thank you," Quinn says.

"You both look happy," Justin says.

"Thanks," Quinn says again.

"Look, I'm sorry for everything, Quinn."

"I know, I am too."

"Thanks for letting me be here today."

"It has nothing to do with me. Santana and Brittany invited you."

"I know that Santana and Brittany wouldn't have invited me if they hadn't gotten the okay from you first. Santana would never let me forget that she has always, and will always, play for Team Quinn. So thank you. They've become kind of like family after all this time."

"I know," Quinn says. "That's why I would never stop them from having you here."

"They're about to open presents," Rachel says, timidly approaching the table. Quinn smiles at her. It's a genuine, somewhat bashful smile and Rachel tries to ignore the way Justin's eyes drop at seeing it.

"Shall we?" Quinn asks, raising her can of soda to Justin.

'Of course. I wouldn't want to miss the presents. I hear that Lily has quite the surprise planned for Nico and Olivia.

* * *

Present opening is endless. Santana and Brittany have to help them with most of their gifts, and the babies seem much more content shredding the wrapping paper than looking at their new trucks, ukuleles, or blocks.

"What's next?" Santana asks.

"Okay, so I wrote this song for Nico and Olivia because they're two and two is a very important age. And my mom just told me about husbands today so ignore that part of the song." Lily says, approaching the front of the group with her guitar. Santana pats a space beside her for Lily to sit down, but Lily glares and shoos her off into the crowd.

"Nicovia are the luckiest kids, they have the best moms," Lily began strumming on her guitar. "When B and S became husbands, they'd never known that they'd have babies one day, but because they're awesome husbands, now they get to be awesome moms!"

"What the fuck is this song, Q," Santana whispers to Quinn.

"It doesn't even rhyme."

"She's seven, Santana. And she wrote it for Nico and Olivia. And _you're _her guitar teacher, so really you're too blame. Besides, I think the twins are enjoying it."

Sure enough, Nico was sitting in front next to Lily clapping and Olivia was lightly swaying her head back and forth.

* * *

"I'd like to make a toast," Maria says, after Lily finishes her song to the cheers of the group. "Excuse me, I'd like to make a toast," Maria tries again, slapping her plastic spoon on the neck of her beer. Santana rolls her eyes.

"DO NOT MAKE ME GO ALL LIMA HEIGHTS SANTANA LOPEZ. 80% of you know what that means. The other 20% don't want to learn. My dear, drunk, mother has something to say." Santana gestured to her mother.

"Thank you, Santana. Many, _many _years ago, Santana and Brittany went to their Senior Prom together. I'm sure many of you here today didn't realize that they've been together that long. Afterward, I caught a very drunk Santana and Brittany sneaking up into her room, breaking, for possibly the hundredth time—"

"Millionth," Santana cuts in.

"The millionth time," Maria continued, "our open-door policy. My, then eighteen-year-old daughter, proceeded to explain to me that when their children Rainbow and Amy were teenagers there would be no open-door policy in their household." There were chuckles around the room. "I can't tell you how pleased I am that my grandchildren are not named Rainbow and that it is quite obvious that the open-door policy will be very much in place come 12 years."

"Not true!" Santana yelled. We're very liberal parents!"

"You don't even let them eat refined sugar, Santana. And I think we both know what teenagers eat behind—"

"Enough!" Santana yelled. "My mother, everyone."

* * *

The sun is starting to set and most of the guests have found their way home. Puck is still flirting with a dancer and Maria and Frank are curled up in a bench outside.

"This was nice," Rachel says to Quinn, sipping on a glass of Sangria.

"Yeah. It really was."

"I like going to things like this with you. As my girlfriend. As my non-secret, legitimate, we're in love girlfriend."

"I like that too, Rach." Quinn leans over and pecks Rachel on the lips.

"Get a room!" Santana yells. "Or go to your _own_ house!"

"Help me get the kids to the car?" Quinn asks Rachel, ignoring Santana. Rachel nods and stands on her toes to give Quinn another peck.

"Anytime," Rachel says.

* * *

It ends as uneventfully as it began, and that, in and of itself is startling to Santana. A morning with the same alarm clock she's used since she was 16. Another party. Another evening next to Brittany. Suddenly everyone is gone, they are getting ready for bed, just as they have every night before this, only on this night her children are two-years-old.

"Are you ready to go to the doctor tomorrow?" Brittany asks Santana, rubbing lotion on her elbows as she sits on the edge of the bed.

"More than ready," Santana replies. "I feel like it's all coming together, B. I'm ready to complete our family." Brittany laughs. "That's not funny!" Santana says, still pulling a brush through her hair.

"I know, baby, I know. It's just, you realize that it's like saying a never ending puzzle will all eventually fit together. It will never be complete." Santana raises her eyebrows at her wife. "Like how it felt when we won Nationals, like a big bow was tied on High School. Or how you looked the day you graduated from College. Or the day the twins were born. All of this will never be complete, we'll just keep adding and adding to our really big puzzle of milestones and goals and making a bigger and bigger puzzle."

"I like that, B," Santana says, crawling into bed and turning off the light on her bedside table. "Like we'll never really know what's going on but we just keep doing it to see what it's going to look like in the end."

"Exactly," Brittany says, crawling into bed. "Our big unknown puzzle. And tomorrow we get to add another piece."

"I love you, Britt."

"I love you too, Santana."

"Goodnight," Santana says, placing a tender kiss on Brittany's temple. She wraps her arm over Brittany's back so that their hands are clasped in front of Brittany's chest and her nose nuzzles into the back of Brittany's neck.

"Sweet dreams," Brittany whispers.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: **Well, this is it! It's been great writing this story, but it has come to end. As always, if you have any questions, let me know over at Tumbler on SeahorseSantana. I've loved all of your reviews and thank you for sticking with me for so long! I'd love if you all could check out my new story, Lilacs and Landmines! I hope you enjoy the epilogue!

* * *

"I told you half-a-dozen times to clean your rooms yesterday!" Santana yells, her voice booming through the house. They've all lived with her for practically a lifetime, but it's still surprising how much her "angry" voice carries.

"Ooh, Nico and Livi are in trouble!" August says to Brittany, blowing a little on his hot chocolate.

"Well, she did tell them, multiple times, to clean their rooms," Brittany says, glancing toward the ceiling.

"Trouble, trouble, Nico and Livi are in trouble," Amy sings into her hot chocolate. Brittany smirks as Santana walks into the room.

"I swear to God, Britt, those children are going to be the death of me," Santana says, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Brittany opens her mouth to respond, but she's interrupted by a groan and the kitchen door slamming.

"Mom, you're being totally unfair!" Olivia screams as she storms into the kitchen, Lola slowly following her. "Mom, tell Mom she's being totally unfair."

"Mama's been telling you to clean your room all week," Brittany says. She looks at her daughter pointedly. "Don't try to get me in the middle of this, Olivia."

"She took my iPad away! How am I supposed to talk to my friends, or see when Aunt Q is going to get here, or, or how am I supposed to do my homework?"

"If you really need to talk to Aunt Quinn you can use my phone, your friends can wait, it's your mother's birthday, and if you were going to do your homework on a Saturday morning for the first time since you entered Kindergarten, then I'm very sorry that I prevented that miracle from occurring. Now, go upstairs, Olivia." Brittany says. "I love you!" Brittany yells as Olivia huffs but turns on her heel back up to her room.

"Promise me you'll never be that mean to your Mama," Santana says, taking a seat next to Amy and ruffling her hair. Amy shakes her head, confused.

"You and Mommy are awesome! I would never be mean and yelly like Livi. She's a jerk anyway." Santana smiles and makes eye contact with Brittany over their youngest daughter's head. She kisses the part in her hair. "Is Sadie coming over today?"

"She is!" Brittany says, taking a sip of her own hot chocolate.

"Good, I have to show her this awesome new dance routine! I think we can use it when we sing in the Talent Show!"

"I'm sure Sadie will be super excited about that," Brittany says. "Do you want to show me in the studio later?" Brittany asks. Amy nods.

"I'm going to go warm up!" Amy squeals, jumping out of her chair. Brittany holds on to the hot chocolate to keep it from spilling over.

"Mama, is it okay if I go play with my Nintendo?" August asks.

"Of course," Santana says, "but remember, it's off once people start to arrive, Gus."

"I know, I know," he says, sliding out of his chair and running toward the basement. He stops in the doorway.

"CJ!" He yells. "CJ!"

"August, go upstairs to get your cousin," Santana says, staring at him with disbelief. "You're way too old for me to remind you about inside voices."

"Sorry, Mama," August says, running up the stairs.

It's suddenly very quiet in the room. It's so unusual these days that it feels like the silence takes over the space. Brittany moves over one chair so that she is sitting next to Santana.

"It's nice," Santana says.

"How do you know that's what I was thinking?" Brittany asks.

"I don't know," Santana says, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder. "Probably something to do with the 25 years or so we've been together."

"That must be it." Brittany says, sighing.

"Jesus, I'm old." Santana says. Brittany laughs and kisses Santana's temple.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart."

* * *

"Wake up, girls!" Rachel sings as she walks down the hallway. "Rise and shine!"

"You know, they're going to kill you one day," Quinn says as Rachel enters the kitchen. "Trust me. I understand the Fabray genetic desire to murder an unstoppable, chronically singing, Rachel Berry."

"And I know the Fabray genetic propensity for adoring Rachel Berry and somehow finding her loudness endearing at all hours of the day." Quinn tries to conceal her smile as Rachel stands up on her toes to give her a peck on the lips. "I love when you make Soyrizo for breakfast."

"I know you do, sweetheart," Quinn says, smiling.

"I'm actually going to kill you, Rachel," Lily cuts them off, entering the kitchen in UCLA sweatpants, her blond hair up in a messy bun.

"You and me both," Hannah says, coming into the room behind her.

"You don't have to live with her anymore," Harper points out. "Although our six am elliptical training is really doing awesome things for my body…check out my abs," she says, lifting her shirt.

"See, I have my merits," Rachel says.

"I'm just so happy everyone is home," squeals a fully dressed Sadie. Her dark brown hair is pulled back with a red headband with a little bow in the corner. She sits down on Lily's lap. "I had the best idea for Aunt San's birthday! I've been arranging an Andrew's Sisters song for four instead of three! She'll love it. We're just like the Andrew's Sisters, minus the unfortunate estrangement of Patty and Maxine's struggle with depression."

"Are you sure she's nine?" Hannah asks, laughing.

"I ask myself that everyday," Harper says. "Again, you two are lucky you don't have to live here anymore."

"Do you want to go shopping for Aunt S before we head over?" Hannah asks Lily.

"Yeah, finals kicked my ass this semester. It was heinous. Truly, truly heinous. I had no time." She leans over Quinn, snatching bites of Soyrizo over her shoulder and ignoring her Mother's scolding.

"What about you, Harper?"

"No, told Aunt B I'd help her set up. We should be going over soon, right, Mom?" Quinn nods.

"What about you, Mama Rae? Think you can handle a little shopping spree with your _favorite_ girls?" Lily asks.

"I guess…" Rachel says, grinning.

"It's settled then," Quinn says. "Sadie, Harper and I will go over now, and we'll meet you guys there at one."

* * *

"You guys have an hour!" Santana yells up the stairs. There is no response. "Do you hear me?" She yells again.

"You know, you may get a better response if you actually go up there," Brittany says, appearing in the doorway.

"I can't go up there, B," Santana says. "They'll just start yelling at me again, and I don't think my mid-forties heart can take it. I may just keel over and die of a heart attack from all that stress."

"I think you can risk it, honey." Brittany says, rolling her eyes.

Santana knocks gently on Olivia's door. There is no response so she knocks again, Santana sighs, mostly to herself, and then is embarrassed that she's feeling nervous in her own home with her own children.

"Livi? I'm going to come in," Santana says, her hand on the doorknob. There's still no response, so Santana gently turns the doorknob, allowing herself into Olivia's room. It's surprisingly clean, and Olivia is laying on her bed looking at her Kindle.

"Is everything okay?" Santana asks, her voice soft. Olivia doesn't respond. Santana sits down next to her on her daughter's bed. She's not sure what to say, so she just sits in silence.

"You know, I was _just _on the phone today because I wanted to invite Liam over for your birthday party," Olivia finally says.

"Who is Liam?" Santana asks, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

"That's just the point, Mom! It doesn't matter who Liam is! What matters is you're having this stupid party and Nico is going to follow Harper around like a stupid puppy dog and Sadie and Amy are _babies_ and Mom's going to spend all her time worrying about you and your going to spend all of your time worrying about CJ and it's going to _suck_ for me! And Liam is like my best friend and I want him to come!"

"I thought Julie was your best friend."

"She's my friend, Mama, but Liam is like my best _best _friend and he's really nice and he plays guitar and soccer and he has really cute dimples."

Santana feels like the bile is rushing to her throat. Is this really happening right now? Is her baby girl _really_ gushing about a boy's dimples? She knows what talking about dimples means. It means crushes and love and sex and all the other horrible things that come with being an adult.

Then she remembers. She remembers that they didn't have children to have eternal babies running around, that _this_ is the inevitable day that her baby likes someone else and she is supposed to have helpful advice.

Her daughter is looking at her with wide, questioning eyes.

"You like him," Santana finally blurts out.

"Mom!" Olivia squeals.

"No, it's fine. You like him. You can borrow Mom's phone to invite him. No sex until you're married. And you need to talk to your mother about this."

"_You _are my mother."

"Your other mother. Today is my birthday, and I'm going to pretend you're still that tiny, innocent little infant I held in my arms the day you were born," Santana says, wrapping her arm a little too tightly around Olivia's shoulders.

"Ugh, Mama, let go. I have to go get Mom's phone."

Santana reluctantly releases Olivia, sighing deeply with a nervous smile. She stands in the hallway for a moment before approaching Nico's room. She rolls her shoulders back before braving whatever storm may be awaiting her in there and opens the door.

* * *

"I really think it would just be better if you let me drive," Rachel says. "You know, the vast majority of accidents take place with drivers under 25. You're easily distracted."

"You're a terrible driver, Mama Rae," Lily says. "Terrible."

"You're a really bad driver," Hannah adds. "And while I'm sure that in your head all you see is a couple of eight-year-olds driving, let me assure you that both of us are better drivers than you. We're native Angelenos after all."

"Honestly, Rae, I think that Sadie would probably be a better driver than you. And I doubt that her midget legs even reach the pedals."

"Don't call your sister a midget," Rachel warns, grasping tightly to her seat belt hook as Hannah makes a particularly sharp turn. "Why don't you two tell me about how school is going?"

"Horrible," Lily says.

"Terrible," Hannah says.

"Anything specifically?" Rachel asks.

"No," they both say in unison. Rachel rolls her eyes and grips the seat belt a little tighter.

* * *

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Q, mini-Q, and the mini-Berry," Santana says, dragging a keg into the backyard.

"Ugh, I'm not a mini-her," Harper says, rolling her eyes. "You better be nicer to me if you want me to keep babysitting for you."

"We don't need babysitters anymore, anyway, Harper," Olivia says, looking up from Brittany's phone for the millisecond she needs to send a piercing glare in Harper's direction. "Nico and I are 14 now."

"Is that my phone?" Brittany asks Olivia. Olivia just looks up at her, her eyes wide. "Give that to me."

"You said I could use it," Olivia whines to Santana.

"I said you could use it to call Aunt Quinn. Who is here now," Brittany says, gesturing at Quinn. She holds out her hand for Olivia to return the phone. She slams it into Brittany's palms.

"Mama told me that I could use the phone to call Liam!" Olivia yells.

"I said that you could use the phone to call Liam _once._ You've invited him to the party, now hand the phone back to your mother."

"You guys just suck, you know that?" Olivia says, storming up the stairs.

"When will this end?" Santana asks Quinn, shaking her head. "How did you do this three times?"

"Well, when did you stop being a brat, Santana?" Quinn asks. Santana rolls her eyes.

"Point taken."

"Who is Liam?" Brittany asks no one in particular.

"You don't want to know," Santana says. Brittany raises her eyebrows at her. "I'll tell you later," Santana amends.

"God, 45 and still _so _whipped," Quinn says.

"I am _not _45 yet, Fabray. Say it again, and I _will _cut you."

* * *

"So," Rachel starts, putting her best smile on. "What's going on with Hannah?" Lily rolls her eyes.

"She's trying on an ugly dress in that dressing room about six feet from us, Mama Rae. God, I think you're too young to be getting Alzheimer's already."

"You know what I mean, Lily."

"What's in it for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You want me to dish on what's up Hannah's butt, I'm assuming there's something in it for me. Like….can I take the car to school with me next semester?"

"I'll talk about it with your mother."

"Really?" Lily asks, disbelieving.

"We were considering it anyway. Now, tell me what's going on with your sister."

"Ugh, it's boring lez-drama stuff. You guys should be pros at it, actually. She and Julie broke up and then Julie started dating Alisha and so Hannah freaked out and slept with that girl Madison, you know, the crush from Freshman year? But Madison was already dating Tanya and now she sees Julie and Alisha everywhere and she feels like their friends are all rubbing it in her face."

"I thought Alisha was straight."

"Everyone is straight until they're gay. You should know that, Mama Rae. Lord knows we watched your old L Word DVD's enough when we were kids."

"I can't believe you guys were watching those. Also, wasn't Julie kind of an ass?"

"Yeah," Lily says. "That's Hannah's type though.

"What's going on with you, Lil?"

"Nothing. I'm still with Michael. And I failed Spanish. Okay, Mama Rae! Gonna see if Hannah's done!" Lily runs off towards Hannah's dressing room.

"You're going to have to tell your mother!" Rachel yells. "Don't expect me to do it for you!" Her phone rings.

"Hey, Quinn."

"Hi, honey. What time are you going to make it over to Brittany and Santana's?"

"They're trying on clothes, so maybe in an hour."

"Aren't they supposed to be buying a gift for Santana?"

"They got sidetracked."

"Well, hurry them up, okay?"

"Of course. Hey, Q?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Have I ever told you that having college aged children is just as stressful as teenagers, middle-schoolers, and children?"

"I know. What happened?"

"We'll talk about it later."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Mama, come play basketball with us!" August says, his hair sweaty and in his face. He nearly runs into Santana because he's running so fast.

"Go get your Mom, to play, you know I'm no good at basketball."

"That's why it's _fun_!" August says, stomping his foot. Santana rolls her eyes at him.

"You think Nico will play if I ask him?"

"I don't know, little man, but it can't hurt to ask," Santana says, ruffling his hair. Santana tunes out the adults as August runs over to his older brother, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. At first Nico ignores him, preferring to continue his conversation with Harper—Harper is ruffling his hair and Santana can tell, despite his olive skin tone, that Nico is blushing. Finally her older son notices the younger, and the two run off to the driveway.

"Earth to Satan," Mercedes says, snapping her fingers in front of her face.

"Whatchu want from me, Wheezy?"

"Where you been, girl?"

"I've been right here," Santana says defensively. Mercedes gives her that look, that pointed, I know you've been sleeping with Brittany all day high school look that makes Santana roll her eyes harder.

"I don't know," Santana finally says, realizing her friends aren't going to let her let it go. "My kids are all over the place lately. Nico is girl-crazy, Olivia is boy-crazy, they're ignoring their little siblings and they're being assholes to me and Britt. I just don't know where they get it."

"Santana 'the boy is mine' Lopez doesn't get it. They're teenagers! They're your and Brittany's beautiful and handsome, popular, teenage kids."

"I think you once told me that I could have full access to the rambunctious twins who lived on your ribcage. You were two years older than your kids are now." Sam adds.

"She said that to you?" Mercedes asks, incredulous.

"She did. I mean, to be fair, it was during Santana's weird, sappy, lovesick with Brittany period."

"Is this when you two dated for a hot second? When she thought that charade of heterosexuality still was working for her?"

"Okay, enough reminiscing, Ebony and Gay Ivory. I thought we raised our kids to be different."

"Different from what? From every normal, hormonal teenager? They're good kids, Santana. They're going to lust after everyone they're attracted to, and they're going to hate you for putting boundaries in their lives. They're normal teenagers."

"I just wish they could be normal babies again. Should I go break up that conversation between Olivia and _Liam_," Santana asks.

"No!" Mercedes and Sam say at one. "Leave them alone, Santana."

"Fine." She says, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm drinking more. I'm going to get drunk, because I'm thirty and my kids are dating and I _deserve_ it."

"Whatever you say, Santana," Mercedes says, laughing.

* * *

"What are you kids all doing out here?" Santana asks, her hands on her hips. She's tipsy and surprised to find all the children in the living room. "Shouldn't you be in the basement, avoiding the beautiful LA weather, or outside trying to sneak some beer?"

'"We found photo albums," Harper says.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Santana replies. "Just what I need on my Thirtieth birthday."

"Forty-Second," Maria says. "Or is it Forty-Fourth. You're getting so old it's not even really worth counting anymore."

"Mama, who is this with you in this picture?" Olivia asks, looking up at Santana.

"That's Dave Karofsky. We were at our Junior Prom."

"I thought you went to prom with Mom," Nico says.

"Our Senior Prom. I went to Junior Prom with Dave and mom went to Junior Prom with Artie."

"Artie, Glee Club Artie?" Olivia asks.

"The very same. He was her boyfriend that year, even though I think they'd broken up by then."

"Was he always in a wheelchair?" Nico asks.

"No, but for as long as we knew him."

"Why'd they break up?"

"Because your mom came to your senses and realized that she'd rather be with me."

"Why are you all looking at pictures of Junior Prom?" Brittany asks, a little tipsy, her drink sloshing around in its cup. She sits on the ground next to Santana.

"The kids found the _old _photo album."

"God, you all have this picture. You guys have this picture hanging in the house and in this album. What is the big deal about this picture?" Hannah asks.

"It's when we won Nationals in our Glee Club," Rachel says.

"It's how we all know each other," Sam adds, smiling.

"It's a great picture." Santana says.

"Look," Lily says, "Mom and Mama Rae are gazing at each other. Like they were in love even then."

"They were totally weird and repressed." Santana says. "Although I'm not sure this is much better." She glares at Rachel sitting in Quinn's lap and then rolls her eyes when Quinn glares right back.

"And Aunt B and Aunt S are grossly all over each other, like usual," Harper says.

"Who is that girl with the dreads?" Olivia asks. All of the adults in the room burst out in laughter. Brittany wraps her arm around her daughter.

"You really are my child," Brittany says, "but please, _please_, be a little less like me in High School."

"You should all really be a little less like all of us in High School," Quinn adds.

"Yeah, mom," Lily says, "we already passed by your sixteen and pregnant pictures."

"Great," Quinn says.

"Do you ever think about Beth?" Hannah asks. Quinn and Puck make eye contact for a split second.

"Of course I do," Quinn says. Puck looks down into his drink. "But, of course, Beth is happy and living her life in New York, and that's the life that Uncle Noah and I wanted to give her.

"We have like a million siblings," Sadie says, unable to conceal the excitement in her voice. Quinn rolls her eyes again. "No! We totally do! I mean there's Lily and me and Harper and Hannah and Beth and JJ," Sadie says, gesturing over to Justin, holding his son Justin Jr. in his lap. "It's awesome. And Amy, August, Nico and Olivia are _practically_ my siblings, too. It's a lot of siblings. Also, a lot of parents, which isn't so awesome."

Santana can't help laughing.

"It's strange, isn't it? That we all ended up together like this." Santana says, putting her arm around Lily.

"Strange, but kind of nice. Like when Sour Patch Kid sugar gets on your Red Vines. You don't expect it, but, somehow, it works."


End file.
